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1Y  MA  j.  Ho  RACE  BELL 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 

PHILA  ROGERS  &  LINDA  COSKI 
in  memory  of  their  father 
HOWARD  WILLOUGHBY 


BANCROFT    LIBRARY 


REMINISCENCES 


-OF  A- 


RANGER 


-OR,— 


EARLY  TIMES 


-IN  — 


SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA, 


By  MAJOE  HORACE   BELL. 


LOS  ANGELES: 

YARNELL,  CAYSTILE  &   MATKE8,  PUINTEK8. 


1881. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1881,  by 

HORACE    BELL, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


Bancroft  Library 


TO  THE  FKW 

SURVIVING   MEMBERS 

OV  THE 

LOS   ANGELES   RANGERS, 

AND  TO  THE  MEMOHY  OP  THOSE  WHO  HAVE  ANSWERED  TO  THE 

LAST  ROLL-CALL, 

THIS  HUMBLE  TRIBUTE  IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED  BY 
JHE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 

No  country  or  section  during  the  first  decade  following  the 
conquest  of  California,  has  been  more  prolific  of  adventure 
than  our  own  bright  and  beautiful  land ;  and  to  rescue  from 
threatened  oblivion  the  incidents  herein  related,  and  either  oc- 
curring under  the  personal  observation  of  the  author,  or  related 
to  him  on  the  ground  by  the  actors  therein,  and  to  give  place 
on  the  page  of  history  to  the  names  of  brave  and  worthy  men 
who  figured  in  the  stirring  events  of  the  times  referred  to,  as 
well  as  to  portray  pioneer  life  as  it  then  existed,  not  only  among 
the  American  pioneers,  but  also  the  California  Spaniards,  the 
author  sends  forth  his  book  of  Reminiscences,  trusting  that 
its  many  imperfections  may  be  charitably  scrutinized  by  a  crit- 
icising public,  and  that  the  honesty  of  purpose  with  which  it  is 
written  will  be  duly  appreciated. 

H.  B. 


NOTE. 

The  word  "Registrar"  used  instead  of  Register  in  Chap.  VI 
must  be  charged  to  the  printers  and  not  the  author. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

The  Sea  Bird — Arrival  at  San  Pedro— The  two  Captains  Haley — Pio- 
neer Staging — Sailor  Stage  Drivers — Banning — "  Let  Her  Drive  " — 
Stage  Race  and  High  Betting — Arrival  at  the  Angels — The  Bella 
Union  and  its  Guests — The  First  Vigilance  Committee — The  Seven 
Wise  Men  ef  the  Angels — Their  Inquisitorial  Torture — They  Find 
the  Assassin  of  Gen.  Bean  and  Hang  an  Innocent  Man — Joaquin 
Murietta — Zapatero,  the  Tejon  Chief — The  El  Dorado — Aleck  Gib- 
son's— Nigger  Alley  and  Gambling— Notel  Characters — Crooked 
Nose  Smith — Cherokee  Bob 17 

CHAPTER  II. 

Ricardo  Urives — He  Wipes  Out  Jim  Irvin's  Party — His  Encounter 
with  John  G.  Downey — A  Bloody  Affray  in  Nigger  Alley— Ri- 
cardo Passes  in  His  Checks— The  Black  Democrat— The  Court  of 
the  Vigilance  Committee — The  Doomed  Men — The  Gallows — 
Hanging  Reyes  Feliz,  Sandoval  and  Three  Others — The  Arkansas 
Man  as  Hangman — The  Last  of  the  First  Mob — Retribution — 
Fandango  at  the  Moreno  House— The  Marshal — J.  Thompson  Bur- 
rill's  Court  and  How  it  Was  Adjourned— Granger  and  Ogier — The 
Mission  Indians — A  Slave  Mart — •. 31 

CHAPTER  III. 

More  Lynching— Disgraceful  Proceedings — Smith  and  a  Mexican  are 
Whipped  on  the  Plaza — Tossing  a  Man  in  a  Blanket —  A  Broken 
Neck — Even  Change — Thompson  Burrill  and  Dona  Concha — A 
Man  Gets  Married— The  Hairless  Dog — Jack  Powers  and  His 
Great  Influence — He  Defies  the  Law — Emigrates  to  Sonora  and  is 
Murdered — Alas  !  Poor  Jack — Los  Angeles  the  Hot-bed  of  Revolu- 
tion—  Castro's  Pronunciamento — Micheltorena  — Gringo  Versus 
Gringo,  anJ  the  Great  Three  Days  Battle  of  Providencia— Blood, 
"God  and  Liberty." — Bandini's  Revolution — The  Founding  of  Los 
Angeles  — Navarro's  Dream 50 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  "  Most  Useful  Man,"  and  How  he  Played  it  nn  Friar  Juan,  of  Agua 
Mansa — His  Duel  With  General  Magruder—  Juan  Largo  Versus 
Juan  Chapo — A  Wonderful  Lawsuit — Myron  Norton,  Don  Jose",  and 
the  Mixed  Jury — Cobarrubias 72 

CHAPTER  V. 

Spanish  Families— Good  Society  —  A  First-classJ  Mexican  Ball  — 
Ranchero  Hospitality— Captain  J.  Q.  A.  Stanley — R,  S.  Den,  Ban- 
dini  and  Others— Washington's  Birthday  Ball  in  1853— Assault  and 
Hard  Fighting— The  Dead— Myron  Norton  \Vounded-The  Angels 
on  a  War  Footing — Andres  Pico  Commands  the  Peace — The  Mis- 
sion Indians  Adopt  Gringo  Customs  and  Hang  a  Man — Mission 
Squirrels  Versus  Mission  Bells 88 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  Grand  Character — An  Old-time  Election  in  Los  Angeles— Capturing 
Voters,  the  Modus  Operand! — Disguising  Sovereigns — Old  Payuche 
-^History  Repeats  Itself— The  Register  of  the  Land  Office  Dines 
Off  the  Nose  of  the  U.  S.  District  Attorney — The  Judge  and 
the  Pet  Deer — Lafayette  Cotton  and  the  Register — An  Overdose  of 
Buckshot 99 

CHAPTER    VII. 

Joaquin  Murietta  and  His  Desperate  Doings — A  Reign  of  Terror — The 
Rangers — Captain  Hope  and  Others— The  Twin  Brothers,  Green  and 
Wiley  Marshall — Green's  Adventures  in  Arizona— Death  of  the  two 
Brothers 107 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Great  Western  Napoleon — The  Grand  Gringo  Campaign  Against 
the  Desert  Indians — Don  Benito  Wilson,  the  Honest  Indian  Agent 
— The  Indians  Steal  His  Horses — A  Vindictive  Pursuit — Don  Vi- 
cente de  La  Osa  and  His  Reinforceinervt — The  Padres  of  Old 118 

CHAPTER    IX. 

The  Great  Ohio  Mail  Robber  Seeks  Refuge  in  Los  Angeles  and  is 
Arrested — The  Royal  Bengal  Tiger — A  Stir  Among  the  Angels — 
A  Cool  Lawyer — Fourth  of  July  Celebration  at  San  Pedro  and 
Los  Angeles — Alexander  &  Banning— Don  Juan  Sepulveda  and  the 
Patriotic  Spanish-Americans — A  Reminiscence  by  an  Old  Mexican 
Captain — Commodore  Mervine's  March  on  Los  Angeles — His  Re- 
pulse— Patriotic  Mexicans  Fire  a  Salute  Over  the  Americans  Killed 
in  the  Battle— Brave  Higuera — A  Curious  Court  Scene 127 


CONTENTS.  11 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Pkuutom,  Spectre,  or  What  is  It?— Great  E^tampida — Excitement 
Among  the  Vaqucros— Bill  Solves  the  Mystery — John  T.  Lan fran- 
co's Pioneer  Sulky — A  Sharp  Briar  and  Pious  Fraud — A  Sermon  to 
the  Rangers — A.  Large  Col  lection— A  Midnight  Raid  and  Important 
Capture — The  Jackass  Lawsuit— Drown  and  Thorn — "  An  Irishman 
Can't  Give  Evidence  in  this  Court" — A  Test  ot  Blood 138 

CHAPTER  XI. 

A  Bloody  Chapter — Murderers  and  Bandits  Flee  From  San  Luis  Obispo 
— The  Rangers  Capture  the  Whole  Band  After  a  Sharp  Skirmish  in 
Bliss'  Vineyard — A  Female  Fighter — All  Taken  to  San  Luis  Obispo 
and  Hung — The  Murder  of  Porter  and  Pursuit  of  Vergara — Stanley, 
Banning  and  Winston— A  Hide  for  Life — Hand  to  Hand  Fight — 
Vergara  Escapes,  Reaches  Yuma  and  is  Killed  by  the  Guard — 
Don  Santiago  Arguello— Major  Heintzelman 151 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Murder  of  Jack  Whaling — An  Army  of  Fair  and  Frail  Sisters — 
Moreno's  Baud — Robbery  of  Lelwng's  House — Moreno  Kills  His 
Comrades  for  Blood  Money — Capture  of  Moreno — The  Whole  City 
on  Guard — Solomon  La/.ard's  Bravery — Mayor  Nichol's  Message- 
to  the  Council — All  is  Mystery 158 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Post  of  Jurupa— Captain  Lovell— Military  Discipline — A  Gay  and 
Festive  Quartermaster — Smith — Attempted  Robbery  of  Mrs.  Ivcr- 
son's  House  at  San  Gabriel — Robber  Camp  at  Temescal — The 
Rangers,  Regulars  and  Mormon  Contingent  Make  a  Night  March 
on  Their  Camp — Escape — On  to  San  Juan  Capistrano — Juan  Fors- 
ter — Juan  Avila  el  Rico. 165 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

El  Viejo  Lugo — His  Vast  Wealth  and  Great  Generosity — His  Death — 
Bill,  the  Most  Remarkable  -Omar  Pacha — Louis  Napoleon  — U.  8. 
Grant — Knights  Ferry — King  Gumbo  Jumbo  and  Kahmebameha — 
A  Wonderful  Saint — Chebang— Boom — My  Compadre — Another 
Pacha  who  Decimates  a  Turkish  Regiment 174 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Attempted  Assassination  ef  Judge  Hayes— Horses  Stolen  From  San 
Bernardino  Ranch — The  Lugos  Pursue,  Attack  and  Defeat  the  In- 
dians, and  Massacre  a  Party  of  Americans — Adobe  Houses — The 
Fandango — Peons  end  Pelados—  Cascarones — The  Dead  Des- 
perado   194 


12  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Alex.  Bell — His  Adventures— Lea  U  a  Filibustering  Expedition  to 
Equador— Gen.  Flores— Eminent  Fighting  Men— Walker's  Expe-' 
dition  to  Lower  California — A  Mexican  Hercules — Battle  of  La 
Grulla— The  Twin  Republics— The  Old  Flag  Abolished— The  Gov- 
ernraent  Starts  for  Sonora — Hercules  Heads  it  off — Major  Mc- 
Kinstry,  U.  8.  A. 203 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

. 

More  Filibusters — Cafe  Barrierre— Madame  Begon — The  Expedition  of 
Count  Gaston  de  Raoussett  Boulbon  to  Sonora — All  Made  Prisoners 
— The  Noble  Count  is  Shot  and  His  Followers  are  Banished  to  Los 
Angeles — The  Crabbe  Expedition  to  S<mora — Its  Objects — The 
Ainsa  Family — Gandara  and  Pesqueira — The  Massacre — One  Sur- 
vivor Tells  the  Tale — The  Feast  of  Demons — Fernandez  the 
Traitor — Alexis  Godey  and  Kit  Carson— Crabbe's  Original  Letter 
to  the  Mexican  Prefect  Announcing  his  Coming — Pesqueira's 
Proclamation 211 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

More  Filibusters — The  Expedition  of  Admiral  Zerman  to  Lower  Cali- 
fornia— "The  Stern  Admiral" — Gen.  Blancarte  Traps  and  Sends 
the  Party  as  Prisoners  to  Mexico — Bob  Baldwin — John  Cullen — 
Smith  and  His  Bloody  Record— John  Temple  and  the  Plan  to  Rob 
Him— His  Vast  Wealth— End  of  Smith 227 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Revolution — The  California  Spaniard — His  Patriotism— The  Great 
Gringo  Nation — John  Raines — Guadaloupe  Sanchez — Organization 
of  Patriots — The  Plaza  Occupied — "Viva  la  Republica,  and  Death 
to  the  Gringos  " — General  Littleton  to  the  Rescue — Kaid  on  the  Bella 
Union  Bar- -Mayor  Hodges  in  the  Field — Firing  on  the  Plaza — 
The  Gringo  Phalanx  Routed — The  Mayor  in  a  Bomb  Proof — The 
Phalanx  Triumphant — The  Killed  and  Wounded — Dona  Maria, 
the  Lady  Mayoress  in  Peril — Littleton  Relieves  Her— The  Last  Out- 
rage—The Angels  Redeemed— "All  is  Well  that  Ends  Well." 235 

CHAPTER   XX, 

Bull  Fights — Romance  of  Spanish  American  Conquest — Gran  Funcion 
de  Toros— The  Gran  Toreador— Plaza  de  Toros— The  Debut  of  Don 
Jesus — "The  Bravest  Man  in  the  World" — A  Furious  Bull — A.  Des- 
perate Encounter — The  La/adores,  Picadores  and  Banderilleros — 
The  Gran  Toreador  Gets  a  Raise— The  Battle  Over— The  Gringo's 
Revenge  . .  .242 


CONTENTS.  13 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Bears  and  Bear  Stories— Lassoing  the  Grizzly — Jim  Bogg's  Bear  Fight 
—Col.  Win.  Butts— "The  Southern  Cal i for niaii"— Butts  and  Wheeler 
• — Butts'  Encounter  With  a  Grizzly — Andy  Sublette  and  the  Bear — 
"  Old  Buck  " — Andy's  Last  Fight— Victory  and  Death — Andy's 
Funeral — Old  Buck  Dies  From  Grief — Queer  Freak  of  an  Old 
Grizzly — Fred  Stacer's  Adventure— Bill  Bradshaw  and  Nelse  Wil- 
liamson— A  Bad  Wound  250 

CHAPTER'  XXII. 

Parker  H.  French — His  Grand  Overland  Expedition  from  San  An- 
tonio de  Bexar — Capture  of  the  Expedition  at  El  Paso — French- 
Turns  Robber  and  Brings  up  in  the  Durango  Prison — His  Arm 
Amputated — Is  a  Guest  at  the  Bella  Uni»n — Goes  to  San  Luis 
Obispo  and  Gets  to  be  a  Senator — His  Antics — Sells  and  Mortgages 
His  Constituents'  Ranchos — Turns  up  in  Nicaragua — Minister  to 
Washington — Is  Kicker'  Out  of  Nicaragua  and  Turns  up  Again  a 
Prisoner  of  State  in  Fort  Lafayette — A  Dangerous  Confederate  Spy.  261 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

John  G'^ntnn  and  Hi«  ChHuuthna  Sraln  Hunters — Mustang  Gray  and 
His  Ranger  Protege— Glan ton  and  His  Rangers  Reach  Chihuahua 
— Treat  With  the  Chihuahua  Governor — Apache  Scalps  for  Two 
Ounces  Each — Ben.  Riddle  and  John  Abel— The  First  Campaign — 
Grnr"t  ft,-~~~™  '.r.H  nnHor.  Wnword — The  Second  Campaign — A 
Mistake  in  Scalps — Flight  of  the  Rangers — Arrival  at  Jesus  Maria 
— The  Mexican  Flag  Outrage — The  Second  Flight— Arrival  at 
Tucson — The  Place  Besieged  by  Mangas  Colorado — The  Rangers 
Save  the  Place — Great  Joy  of  the  Inhabitants — The  Last  Camp — 
Massacre — The  Two  Browns 267 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

McFarland — The  Election  of  '53 — Jurupa — Agua  Mansa  Again — Sharp 
Skirmishing  tor  Votes — Rubideaux — "Can  a  Nigger  Vote  in  Califor- 
nia?"— He  Votes — The  Mormon  Stockade — Bishop  Crosby's  Hotel — 
Cook-  One  Vote  for  Waldo — Quite  a  Skirmish — Alcalde  Brown — 
Mormon  Justice — Pegleg  Smith — His  Camp  in  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains— He  Goes  to  the  Spanish  Country  for  Horses — Raid  on  Los 
Angeles  Ranchos— Jim  Beckworth— The  Gringos  Block  the  Game...  274 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Ranchero  Life — Fiestas — Military  Execution — Rancho  San  Pedro — Don 
Manuel  Dominguez — A  Dignitary — Rancho  Del  Chino—  Colonel 
Isaac  Williams—His  Noble  Generosity — Rancho  San  Joaquin— 
A  Grand  Rodea — Don  Jose"  Sepulveda— A  Forty-two  Mile  Race- 
William  Wolfskill 284 


14  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Jim  Savage  the  Tulare  King — His  Great  Influence  Over  the  Indians— 
His  Barrel  of  Gold  Du>t — He  Establishes  His  Camp  and  Harem 
on  the  Plaza  of  San  Frauuisc  >-  Is  Photographed  by  Vance — Indian 
Monte— Jim  Wins  a  Large  Pile— His  Bloody  End 296 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Bradshaw — A  True  Gentleman  and  Natural  Lunatic — Bill  First  Turns 
up  in  Sonoma  in  184G — His  Scrimmage  with  a  Mexican  Captain — 
Comes  Out  First  best  but  Vamoses  the  Ranch — .Joins  the  Bear  Flag 
Party — Capture  of  Sonoma — True  Chivalry — Joins  Fremont's  Bat- 
talion— Mad  Freaks  Among  the  Angels — The  French  Rebellion  at 
Mokelumne  Hill — The  Militia  Ordered  out — Bradshaw  Appointed  to 
Command — Happy  Termination  of  the  War — His  Antics  in  San 
Francisco — Goes  to  Arizona — Tragic  Death 303 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  Haleys  Again — Loss  of  the  "  Yankee  Blade  " — Timely  Arrival  of 
the  "Goliah" — The  Roughs  on  the  Wrecked  Steamer — Gallant 
Exploit  of  Captain  Haley  in  Rescuing  the  Unfortunates — How  the 
Roughs  were  Handled  on  the  '•  Goliah" — The  Russian  Frigate 
"  Diana  "  and  the  French  Man  of  War  "  Ambuscade  " — The  Great 
Japan  Tidal  Wave — Great  Destruction  of  Shipping — The  "Sea 
Bird  "  Rides  Through  It 312 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

More  Pioneer  Staging — Banning  Again — A  Rough  Ride — Dangerous 
Driving — Fort  Tejon  and  Its  Commander — W.  S.  Hancock,  A.  Q.  M. 
— The  Kern  River  Excitement — A  Grand  Rush — The  First  Train 
Going  North— Don  David  Alexander — A  Reminiscence  of  Cerbol 
Barelas  and  the  Path-Finder — Stoneman  and  Others 322 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  Ranger  Antiquarian — A  Pompeii  at  Our  Back  Door — Tehachepi — 
The  Robin  Hood  of  the  Windy  Pass— The  Last  Relic  of  a  By-gone 
Race — The  Valley  *>f  Perpetual  Bloom — The  Ventarron — The 
Phantom  City 336 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Joe  Stokes — A  First  Class  Desperad<i — Sanguinaiy  .Combat-^Kills  His 
Man  at  Sacramento  and  Comes  to  Los  Angeles — An  Episode  in 
San  Francisco — Ned  McGowan — The  Panama  Riot  and  Massacre — 
A  Heroic  Defense — Glorious  Death — A.  H.  Clark — His  Farewell  to 
Angel  Creditors. . .  . .  350 


CONTENTS.  15 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  Know  Nothings  Carry  the  Day  in  1855 — Downey  Again — Aleck 
Bell  Again,  and  How  He  Won  a  Fine  Position,  and  How  He  Man- 
aged His  Friends  at  Ban  Quintin— James  King  of  William 370 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Another  Revolution — Juan  Flores  Raises  the  Standard  of  Revolt — Cap- 
tures San  Juan  Capistrano — Levies  Forced  Loans — Murders  a  Mer- 
chant— Massacre  of  the  Sheriffs  Party — A  Vendetta — Gen.  Pico 
Takes  the  Field — T.  D.  Mott  Commands  an  Expedition  to  San 
Buenaventura — The  Rebellion  Squelched — Rebels  Hung — Bloody 
Trophies— Stuttering  Aleck 38£ 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  Reminiscence  of  San  Francisco — The  El  Dorado — A.  Great  Gambling 
Hell — Clayt  Sinclair  and  His  High  Betting — The  Diamond  Cluster 
Pin — A  Chinese  Thief — A  Nest  of  Burglars  and  Counterfeiters — 
Capture  of  the  Gang — Cora  and  Richardson — The  Allies — The 
Malikoff  Retaken— The  Union 395 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  Great  Colorado  Desert — A  Legend — A  Scientific  Man  Makes  a 
Great  Discovery — The  Desert  to  be  Filled  with  Water — The  "  Wid- 
ney  Sea  " — Fremont  to  Fill  it  Up — General  Stoneman  Knecks  the 
Bottom  Out  of  It— A  Tradition— The  Ship  of  the  Desert 407 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A  Reminiscence  of  Sacramento — King  Solomon  Gets  His  Gold  in  Cali- 
fornia— An  Ancient  Description  of  the  Country — The  200-Pound 
Diamond — The  El  Dorado  War — Murder — The  Diamond  Again — 
Skirmish  with  Indians — A  Discovery — Gold  Lake — San  Fran — 
cisco — T.  Butler  King  and  Uncle  Sam's  Coin — Frank  Ball  Again...  426 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

A  Retrospective  View — A  Thirty  Years'  Change — "The   Old  Man  of  the 
Mountain  " — Fraudulent  Land  Grants — The  Limantour  Land  Claim 
— Santa  Ana's  Minister  Bocanegra — Attempt  to  Assassinate  Him — 
Fraud  Exposed — The  Justice  and  Wisdom  of  the  Government  Vin- 
dicated— Conclusion  ..  443 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Sea  Bird — Arrival  at  San  Pedro — The  two  Captains  Haley — Pioneer 
Staging — Sailor  Stage  Drivers — Banning — "  Let  Her  Drive  " — Stage 
Race  and  High  Betting — Arrival  at  the  Angels — The  Bella  Union  and 
its  Guests — The  First  Vigilance  Committee — The  Seven  Wise  Men  of 
the  Angels— Their  Inquisitorial  Torture — They  Find  the  Assassin  of 
Gen.  Bean  and  Hang  an  Innocent  Man— Joaquin  Murietta — Zapatero, 
the  Tejon  Chief— The  El  Dorado — Aleck  Gibson's — Nigger  Alley  and 
Gambling— Note!  Characters — Crooked  Nose  Smith — Cherokee  Bob. 


fN  October,  1852,  the  good  steamer  "Sea  Bird,"  Captain 
Haley,  landed  at  San  Pedro.  Whether  the  gallant  com- 
mander of  the  swan-like  little  steamer  that  so  gracefully 
swept  our  beautiful  Southern  coast  was  Salisbury  Haley  Esq., 
now  an  honored  member  of  the  California  bar,  or  his  elder  brother 
"Bob,"  1  disremember.  Glorious  old  Bob  Haley!  So  fondly 
remembered  by  all  who  are  left  of  those  that  were  so  wont  to  go 
dead-head  to  San  Francisco,  with  jolly  old  Bob  on  his  merry 
craft  in  those  good  old  times,  long  gone  by,  never  to  be  known 
again  in  this  world,  and  certainly  not  by  any  of  us  who  so  mer- 
rily passed  through  them.  I  think,  however,  that  Salisbury  was 
the  commander  of  the  beautiful  "  Sea  Bird,"  on  the  trip  that 
brought  the  writer  to  this  land  of  sunshine  and  bountiful  pros- 
perity, more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  What  changes 
have  been  wrought  within  that  time  !  Changes  in  Govern- 
ment, progress  in  commerce,  discoveries  in  science,  revolutions 
in  modes  of  travel,  and  vicissitudes  in  the  lives  and  fortunes  of 
individuals  !•  How  few  are  left  of  the  thoughtless  and  reckless 
adventurers  who  inhabited  and  roamed  over  California  twenty- 
eight  years  ago;  and  at  that  time  all  were  adventurers,  unless, 


18  REMINISCENCES    OF   A    BANGER. 

perchance,  some  few  of  the  grave  old  Spaniards  who  belonged 
to  a  past  generation. 

The  "Sea  Bird"  brought  about  twenty  passengers,  one  of 
whom  was  the  writer,  then  a  boy  in  years,  and  the  youngest  of 
all,  unless,  perhaps,  little  Johnny  Wilson,  now  deceased,  Ro- 
mualdo  Pacheco,  Judge  Ogier,  B.  D.  Wilson,  Pat.  Tompkins, 
the  eccentric  lawyer  and  former  Congressman  from  Mississippi, 
and  Alexander  Nelson,  of  Green  Meadows.  I  remember  that 
Nelson  was  in  company  with  the  Hardy  boys,  who  were  bring- 
ing down  an  English  thoroughbred  race  horse  to  get  a  race  out 
of  "Old  Sepulveda,"  against  a  native  mustang,  and  beat  the 
old  Don  out  of  a  thousand  or  two  head  of  cattle  and  a  few 
thousand  dollars.  They  got  the  race,  but  failed  to  drive  the 
cattle  to  a  profitable  market  in  the  mines,  for  the  reason  that 
Sepulveda's  California  mustang,  on  the  nine-mile  race,  almost 
distanced  the  beautiful  thoroughbred,  and  the  old  Don  afore- 
said quietly  pocketed  the  innumerable  $50  octagonal  slugs, 
brought  down  by  the  boys,  who  were  so  absolutely  cleaned  out, 
that,  if  my  memory  is  correct,  they  were  all  forced  to  go  to 
work,  something  hardly  to  be  thought  of  at  that  time  in  Los 
Angeles.  Indians  did  the  labor  and  the  white  man  spent  the 
money  in  those  happy  days. 

The  Hardys  are  all  dead.  Nelson  is  a  rich  and  prosperous 
farmer,  whose  increase  of  family  keeps  pace  with  his  prosperity. 

At  San  Pedro  we  found  two  stages  of  the  old  army  ambu- 
lance pattern,  to  which  were  being  harnessed  as  vicious  a  look- 
ing herd  of  bronco  mules  as  ever  kicked  the  brains  out  of  a 
gringo.  While  a  half  dozen  Indian  and  Mexican  vaqueros 
were  engaged  in  subduing  and  hitching  up  the  mules,  a  gallant 
looking  young  man  rode  up,  splendidly  mounted,  and  dressed 
in  elegant  clothes,  half  gentleman  and  half  ranchero  in  style, 
and  after  politely  saluting  Don  Benito  Wilson,  informed  him 
that  a  great  Vigilance  Committee  was  in  session  in  Los  An- 
geles, and  were  trying  some  half  dozen  cut-throats,  who  had 


REMINISCENCES   OF   A    RANGER.  19 

been  arrested  and  accused  of  the  murder  of  General  Bean. 
Don  Benito  informed  us  that  the  young  man  was  Billy 
Reader,  City  Marshal  of  Los  Angeles.  Poor  Billy  !  He  ac- 
companied the  author  to  Nicaragua  and  -was  killed  at  San  Ja- 
cinto.  By  the  time  the  conversation  above  referred  to  had 
ended,  the  stages  were  ready  and  we  were  invited  to  "get  in." 
A  sailor-looking  fellow,  who  seemed  to  be  at  least  half-seas- 
over,  sat  on  the  driver's  seat  and  held  the  lines  all  together  in 
both  hands,  while  two  savage  looking  Mexicans,  mounted  on 
horses  that,  for  bone  and  sinew,  would  have  vied  with  the 
famous  steed  of  Mazeppa,  stood  with  lassoes  tightly  drawn  on 
the  leading  mules  to  "guide  centre,"  while  two  others  stood  in 
a  flanking  position  with  their  riatas  ready  to  be  used  as  whips 
to  urge  the  animals  forward  when  the  word  was  given  to  "let 
loose."  Finally,  when  all  hands  were  seated,  a  portly  looking 
young  man  that  Don  Benito  called  Banning,  came  around  with 
a  basket  on  his  arm  and  offered  to  each  of  the  passengers  an 
ominous  looking  black  bottle,  remarking,  "Gentlemen,  there  is 
no  water  between  here  and  Los  Angeles,"  and  then  inquired, 
"  all  ready  ?  "  One  surly  looking  sailor  driver  grumbled  out  in 
reply.  "  Is  there  going  to  be  no  betting  ?  "  When  Banning 
laughingly  remarked  that  the  drivers  usually  expected  the  pas- 
sengers to  bet  something  on  the  trip,  "just  enough  to  make  it 
interesting,"  whereupon  a  passenger  who  sat  beside  me,  whose 
neat  appearance  showed  him  to  be  a  recent  importation,  offered 
to  bet  $5  on  our  stage.  One  of  the  horse  racers  on  the  other 
stage  said:  "Well,  do  you  suppose  there  is  a  man  on  this 
wagon  who  would  bet  $5?  There  is  a  slug  I'll  go  you  on  the 
trip."  My  neighbor,  whom  I  recollect  as  Ransom,  failed  to  re- 
spond; so  the  author  patriotically  saw  his  $50,  after  which  the 
betting  became  general. 

When  all  the  stakes  were  made,  Banning  sang  •  out  to  the 
driver:  "Now  lads,  mind  your  helm  !  Let  her  drive!  "  and  the 
Mexican  major-domo  savagely  yelled  out:  "Suelto  carajo!"  and 


20  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER. 

sure  enough  it  was  "let  loose"  and  away  we  went.  Of  all  the 
rattling  of  harness,  kicking,  bucking,  pulling,  lashing  and 
swearing,  the  twelve  bronco  mules,  the  two  half-drunk  sailor 
drivers,  and  the  six  Mexican  conductors  with  their  chief,  the 
major-domo,  they  did  the  most.  The  mules  were  worthy  of 
the  glorious  country  that  gave  them  to  their  domineering  and 
relentless  masters.  The  two  Mexicans  who  "guided  centre"  on 
the  two  leading  mules  of  both  stages,  were  certainly  artists; 
they  were  absolute  masters  of  the  situation.  They  just  snaked 
the  mules  along,  whether  they  would  or  not.  The  four  out- 
riders, or  mule-whackers,  showed  a  refinement  in  whipping 
mules  that  was  absolutely  incomparable,  and  by  the  time  we 
were  half  way  to  the  Angels,  the  mules  bore  a  perfect  resem- 
blance to  the  ring-streaked  and  striped  kine  of  Holy  Writ. 
The  two  half- drunk  sailor  drivers  would  roar  at  each  other,  as 
we  dashed  along  at  lightning  speed,  sometimes  passing  each 
other,  sometimes  neck  and  neck,  each  team  straining  every 
nerve  to  get  ahead  of  the  other.  "Helm  a-port,  you  lubber  ! 
Don't  you  see  you  will  run  into  me  ! "  always  with  an  amount 
of  profanity  that  was  absolutely  appalling.  Greeley's  ride  with 
Hank  Monk  was  monotonous  compared  with  the  early  staging 
between  San  Pedro  and  Los  Angeles.  There  was  money  bet 
on  that  bronco  mule  stage  race,  and  when  we  had  passed  over 
about  half  the  distance,  the  two  teams  kind  of  slacked  up  in 
speed,  as  if  by  mutual  consent  of  all  concerned,  except  we  who 
had  bet  our  money.  We  were  opposed  to  any  thing  of  the  sort, 
and  urged  our  driver  onward,  when  he  said  in  a  gruff  kind  of 
way:  "  When  will  we  splice  the  main  brace  ?  "  One  of  the  black 
bottles  was  accordingly  opened  and  passed  to  the  driver,  who 
raised  his  eyes  heavenward  and  gazed  piously  at  the  stars  that 
were  just  beginning  to  twinkle  in  the  early  twilight,  and  then 
passed  it  to  one  of  the  "whackers,"  who  also  raised  his  eyes 
heavenward  and  gazed  at  the  stars.  We  passed  out  another 
bottle,  and  all  of  the  Dons  followed  suit.  We  could  sqe  that  the 


REMINISCENCES   OF   A    RANGER.  21 

same  performance  was  being  gone  through  with  by  the  party 
in  charge  of  the  other  stage.  We  inside  the  stage  went 
through  the  same  pious  devotions,  only  we  failed  to  see  stars. 
One  happy  passenger  at  this  juncture  said  to  the  driver:  "I'll 
give  you  $5  if  you'll  beat  that  stage  to  the  city." 

"  Bully/'  said  the  sailor.  "  How  much  will  you  give  ?  And 
you  ?  And  you  ?  And  you  ?  "  and  "  we  all "  who  had  bet  gave 
$5,  and  then  said  the  driver,  "Them  buckaries  have  got  to  be 
seen,  or  we  are  beaten  worse  nor  a  Chinese  junk."  We  saw 
the  Dons  and  told  the  driver  to  let  loose  again,  and  away  we 
went  rackety- whack.  The  party  in  the  other  stage  had  seen  the 
drivers  and  Dons  apparently  in  the  same  manner  as  we  had  seen 
ours,  so  we  got  no  advantage  of  them,  and  the  racing,  lashing 
and  swearing,  both  in  English  and  Spanish,  recommenced  in  as 
lively  a  manner  as  before,  and  on  we  dashed.  In  a  brief  space 
of  time  we  were  coming  up  San  Pedro  street  at  a  fearful  speed, 
followed  by  a  pack  of  dogs,  barking,  yelping  and  snarling  at  us 
in  a  savage  way.  By  the  time  we  turned  to  come  into  town, 
about  First  street,  their  number  seemed  legion,  "  mongrel, 
puppy,  whelp  and  hound."  With  the  whole  pack  at  our  heels, 
we  drove  up  to  the  Bella  Union  Hotel,  now  the  St.  Charles, 
our  team  at  least  a  half-block  in  the  rear  of  the  winning  party. 
Alas,  for  human  folly!  Where  was  my  $50,  my  $5  to  the 
driver,  ditto  to  the  Dons?  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  ominous 
of  future  bad  luck  in  the  City  of  the  Angels — of  financial  fail- 
ure. Alas  !  Alas  ! 

Winston  and  Hodges  kept  the  Bella  Union  at  that  time. 
The  house  was  a  one-story  flat-roofed  adobe,  with  a  corral  in 
the  rear,  extending  to  Los  Angeles  street,  with  the  usual  great 
Spanish  portal,  near  which  stood  a  little  frame  house,  one  room 
above  and  one  below.  The  lower  room  had  the  sign  "Im- 
prenta"  over  the  door  fronting  on  Los  Angeles  street,  which 
meant  that  the  Star  was  published  therein.  The  room  up- 
stairs was  used  as  a  dormitory  for  the  printers  and  editors. 


22  REMINISCENCES   OF   A    RANGER. 

The  editors  were  then  three  in  number:  Lewis,  Rand,  and 
Manuel  Clemente  Rojo.  The  latter  edited  the  Spanish  col- 
umns of  the  Star,  it  being  published  in  both  Spanish  and  En- 
glish. On  the  north  side  of  the  Bella  Union  corral,  extending 
from  the  back-door  of  the  main  building  to  Los  Angeles  street, 
were  numerous  pigeon-holes,  or  dog-kennels.  These  were  the 
rooms  for  the  guests  of  the  Bella  Union.  In  rainy  weather  the 
primitive  earthen  floor  was  sometimes,  and  generally,  rendered 
quite  fnuddy  by  the  percolations  from  the  roof  above,  which,  in 
height  from  floor  to  ceiling,  was  about  six  or  seven  feet.  The 
rooms  were  not  over  6x9  in  size.  Such  were  the  ordinary  dor- 
mitories of  the  hotel  that  advertised  as  being  the  "best  hotel 
south  of  San  Francisco."  If  a  very  aristocratic  guest  came 
along,  a  great  sacrifice  was  made  in  his  favor,  and  he  was  per- 
mitted to  sleep  on  the  little  billiard  table.  "The  bar  was  well 
supplied."  So  said  the  advertisement.  It  was  well  patron- 
ized. So  says  this  truthful  historian.  We  registered  our 
name,  washed,  and  smiled  at  the  bar.  The  grim,  desperado- 
looking  bar-tender  by  no  means  smiled  at  us.  lie  looked  as 
though  he  had  not  smiled  since  his  father  was  hung.  Mind 
you,  now,  I  don't  say  that  bar- tender's  father  was  hung,  but  if 
he  were  not,  he  should  have  been  before  becoming  the  father  of 
such  an  ill-looking  fellow.  He  was  a  vindictive  appearing 
man,  and  wore  an  old  dragoon  overcoat  and  a  red  hat;  a  vi- 
cuna so  common  in  the  country  at  the  time;  open-legged 
Mexican  calzoneros,  with  jingling  buttons  from  hip  to  bottom, 
and  by  no  means  immaculate  under-linen ;  protruding  from  be- 
neath his  flowing  robe  could  be  seen  the  ugly  looking  Colt's  re- 
volver, while,  with  the  red  fringe-work  of  his  Mexican  sash 
could  be  seen  mingled  a  chain  of  ponderous  golden  nuggets  that 
hung  from  his  fob.  That  bar-tender  looked  as  though  he  never 
smiled.  I  am  sure  that  no  man,  though  he  may  have  been 
never  so  hard  up,  so  dry,  or  so  desperate,  would  have  had  the  te- 
merity to  take  a  drink  at  that  bar  without  treating  that  bar- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  23 

tender  with  the  utmost  civility.  In  one  corner  behind  the  bar 
stood  a  double-barrelled  shot-gun,  while,  lying  within  convenient 
reach,  could  be  seen  a  couple  of  "Colt's"  of  the  old  army  pat- 
tern, carrying  half-ounce  balls,  and  commonly  called  "batteries." 
The  bar  was  evidently  not  to  be  taken  by  surprise.  I  soon  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  junior  member  of  the  hotel  firm,  who  was 
also  Mayor  of  the  city,  and,  like  Mayors  in  general,  he  was  the 
reverse  of  the  grim  bar-tender.  He  just  smiled  all  over,  and  all 
the  time.  It  was  a  perpetual  smile  with  genial  old  Hodges. 
The  bar  was  well  patronized,  so  reiterates  this  pious  chron- 
icler, and  during  the  hour  or  two  that  I  was  a  looker-on,  there 
was  a  continuous  smiling  at  that  bar.  Although  I  had  been 
two  and-a-half  years  in  the  upper  country,  and  had  become  fa- 
miliarized with  the  desperado  character  of  the  people,  I 
most  solemnly  asseverate  that  the  patrons  who  came  and  went 
from  the  Bella  Union  bar  during  that  time  were  the  most  ban- 
dit, cut-throat  looking  set  that  the  writer  had  ever  sat  his 
youthful  eyes  upon.  Some  were  dressed  in  the  gorgeous  attire 
of  the  country,  some  half  ranchero,  half  miner;  others  were 
dressed  in  the  most  modern  style  of  tailorship;  all,  however, 
had  slung  to  their  rear  the  never-failing  pair  of  Colt's,  gener- 
ally with  the  accompaniment  of  the  bowie  knife.  I  will  dis- 
pose of  the  aforesaid  junior  member  of  the  hotel  firm,  Mayor 
Hodges,  by  saying  that  he  is  long  since  dead.  The  municipal 
corporation  remembers  him  as  one  of  its  most  enterprising  and 
intelligent  heads.  Under  his  vigorous  administration  the  au- 
thorities projected  and  carried  to  completion  a  public  water 
ditch,  which  remains  to  this  day  a  monument  to  his  enterprise 
and  forethought. 

On  the  morning  following  my  arrival  in  the  city  of  the  An- 
gels I  walked  around  to  take  notes  in  my  mind  as  to  matters 
of  general  interest.  First  I  went  immediately  across  the  street 
to  a  very  small  adobe  house  with  two  rooms,  in  which  sat  in 
solemn  conclave,  a  sub-committee  of  the  great  constituted 


24  REMINISCENCES   OF   A    RANGER. 

criminal  court  of  the  city.  On  inquiry  I  found  that  the  said 
sub-committee  had  been  in  session  for  about  a  week,  endeavor- 
ing to  extract  confessions  from  the  miserable  culprits  by  a  very 
refined  process  of  questioning  and  cross-questioning,  first  by 
one  of  the  committee,  then  by  another,  until  the  whole  com- 
mittee would  exhaust  their  ingenuity  on  the  victim,  when  all 
of  their  separate  results  would  be  solemnly  compared,  and  all 
of  the  discrepancies  in  the  prisoner's  statements  would  be 
brought  back  to  him  and  he  be  required  to  explain  and  recon- 
cile the\n  to  suit  the  examining  committee;  and  the  poor  devil, 
who  doubtless  was  frightened  so  badly  that  he  would  hardly 
know  one  moment  what  he  had  said  the  moment  previous,  was 
held  strictly  accountable  for  any  and  all  contradictions,  and  if 
not  satisfactorily  explained,  was  invariably  taken  by  the  wise 
heads  of  the  said  committee  to  be  conclusive  evidence  of  guilt, 
Six  men  were  being  tried,  all  Sonoranians,  except  one,  Felipe 
Read,  a  half-breed  Indian,  whose  father  was  a  Scotchman ;  all 
claimed,  of  course,  to  be  innocent;  finally  one  Reyes  Feliz 
made  a  confession,  probably  under  the  hypothesis  that  hang- 
ing would  be  preferable  to  such  inquisitorial  torture  as  was  be- 
ing practiced  on  him  by  the  seven  wise  men  of  the  Angels. 
Reyes  said  in  his  confession  that  he  and  his  brother-in-law, 
Joaquin  Murietta,  with  a  few  followers,  had,  about  a  year  pre- 
vious, ran  off  the  horses  of  Jim  Thompson  from  the  Brea 
ranch,  and  succeeded  in  getting  them  as  far  as  the  Tejon,  then 
exclusively  inhabited  by  Indians;  that  old  Zapatero,  the  Tejon 
chief,  on  recognizing  Jim  Thompson's  brand,  arrested  the 
whole  party,  some  dozen  in  all,  men  and  women,  and  stripped 
them  all  stark  naked,  tied  them  up,  and  had  them  whipped 
half  to  death,  and  turned  loose  to  shift  for  themselves  in  the 
best  way  they  could.  Fortunately  for  the  poor  outcasts,  they 
fell  in  with  an  American  of  kindred  sympathies,  who  did  what 
he  could  to  relieve  the  distress  of  the  forlorn  thieves,  who  con- 
tinued their  way  as  best  they  could  toward  the  "Southern 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A    BANGER.  25 

Mines"  on  the  Stanislaus  and  Tuolumne,  no  mining  being  done 
south  of  those  points  at  that  time.  In  the  meantime,  brave 
old  Zapatero,  who  was  every  inch  a  chief,  sent  Thompson's  herd 
back  to  him — an  act  for  which  I  hope  Jim  is  to  this  day  duly 
grateful. 

At  the  time  this  confession  was  made,  Joaquin  was  walking 
around,  as  unconcerned  as  any  other  gentleman;  but  when  the 
minions  of  the  mob  went  to  lay  heavy  hand  upon  him  he  was  gone, 
and  from  that  day  until  the  day  of  his  death,  Joaquin  Murietta 
was  an  outlaw  and  the  terror  of  the  southern  counties.  Until 
that  confession  he  stood  in  this  community  with  as  good  a  char- 
acter as  any  other  Mexican  of  his  class. 

Reyes  Feliz  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  murder  of  General 
Bean.  One  of  the  prisoners,  Cipriano  Sandoval,  the  village 
cobbler  of  San  Gabriel,  also,  after  having  for  several  days 
maintained  his  innocence,  and  denied  any  and  all  knowledge  of 
the  murder,  came  out  and  made  a  full  confession.  He  said  he 
was  on  his  way  home  from  the  maromas  (rope-dancers)  at 
about  11  o'clock  one  night,  it  being  quite  dark.  He  heard  a 
shot,  and  then  the  footsteps  of  a  man  running  toward  him; 
that  a  moment  after  he  came  in  violent  contact  with  a  man 
whom  he  at  once  recognized  as  Felipe  Read.  They  mutually 
recognized  each  other,  when  Felipe  said:  Cipriano,  I  have  just 
shot  Bean.  Here  is  five  dollars;  take  it,  say  nothing  about  it, 
and  when  you  want  money  come  to  me  and  get  it."  That  was 
the  sum  total  of  his  confession.  All  the  others  remained  ob- 
durate, and  what  I  have  related  was  the  sum  of  the  informa- 
tion elicited  by  the  seven  days  inquisition.  The  committee 
had  certainly  found  the  murderer  of  General  Bean. 

The  fact  was,  I  believe,  that  Bean,  who  kept  a  bar  at  the 
Mission,  had  seduced  Felipe's  mistress,  an  Indian  woman,  away 
from  him,  and  hence  the  assassination.  Three  days  after  my 
arrival  the  "'inquisitors"  announced  themselves  as  ready  to  re- 


26  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

port.  In  the  meantime  I  went  around  taking  notes  in  my 
mind. 

Los  Angeles,  at  the  time  of  my  arrival,  was  certainly  a  nice 
looking  place — the  houses  generally  looked  neat  and  clean,  and 
were  well  whitewashed.  There  were  three  two-story  adobe 
houses  in  the  city,  the  most  important  of  which  is  the  present 
residence  of  Mrs.  Bell,  widow  of  the  late  Capt.  Alex.  Bell; 
then  the  Temple  building,  a  substantial  two-story,  at  the  junc- 
tion of  Main  and  Spring  streets;  and  the  old  Casa  Sanchez,  on 
what  is  now  Sanchez  street.  The  lower  walls  of  the  latter  are 
still  there,  the  house  having  been  razeed.  The  business  of  the 
place  was  very  considerable;  the  most  of  the  merchants  were 
Jews,  and  all  seemed  to  be  doing  a  paying  business.  The  fact 
was,  they  were  all  getting  rich.  The  streets  were  thronged 
throughout  the  entire  day  with  splendidly  mounted  and  richly 
dressed  caballeros,  most  of  whom  wore  suits  of  clothes  that  cost 
all  the  way  from  $500  to  $  1,000,  with,  saddle  and  horse  trappings 
that  cost  even  more  than  the  above  named  sums.  Of  one  of  the 
Lugos,  I  remember,  it  was  said  his  horse  equipments  cost  over 
$2,000.  Everybody  in  Los  Angeles  seemed  rich,  everybody 
was  rich,  and  money  was  more  plentiful,  at  that  time,  than  in 
any  other  place  of  like  size,  I  venture  to  say,  in  the  world. 

The  question  will  at  once  suggest  itself  to  the  reader:  Why 
was  it  that  money  was  so  plentiful  in  Los  Angeles  at  the  time 
referred  to?  I  will  inform  him.  The  great  rush  to  the  gold 
mines  had  created  a  demand  for  beef  cattle,  and  the  years  '48, 
'49  and  '50  had  exhausted  the  supply  in  the  counties  north  of 
San  Luis  Obispo,  and  purchasers  came  to  Los  Angeles,  then  the 
greatest  cow  county  of  the  State.  The  southern  counties  had 
enjoyed  a  succession  of  good  seasons  of  rain  and  bountiful  sup- 
ply of  grass.  The  cattle  and  horses  had  increased  to  an  un- 
precedented number,  and  the  prices  ranged  from  $20  to  $35  per 
head,  and  a  man  was  poor  indeed  who  could  not  sell  at  the 
time  one  or  two  hundred  head  of  cattle,  and  many  of  our  first- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  27 

class  rancheros,  for  instance  the  Sepulvedas,  Abilas,  Lugos, 
Yorbas,  Picos,  Stearns,  Rowlands  and  Williams,  could  sell  a 
thousand  head  of  cattle  at  any  time  and  put  the  money  in  their 
pockets  as  small  change,  and  as  such  they  spent  it. 

On  the  second  evening  after  my  arrival,  in  company  with  a 
gentleman,  now  of  high  standing  in  California,  I  went  around 
to  see  the  sights.  We  first  went  to  the  "  El  Dorado  "  and  smiled 
at  the  bar.  The  "  El  Dorado  "  was  a  small  frame  building,  a 
duplicate  of  the  "Imprenta, "  wherein  the  Star  was  published; 
the  room  below  being  used  as  a  bar  and  billiard  room,  while 
the  upper  room  was  used  as  a  dormitory.  The  place  was  kept 
by  an  elegant  Irishman,  John  H.  Hughes,  said  to  have  been  a 
near  kinsman  of  the  late  great  church  dignitary,  Archbishop 
Hughes.  John  was  a  scholar,  and  without  doubt,  so  far  as 
manners  and  accomplishments  went,  was  a  splendid  gentleman, 
and  the  whole  community  accorded  to  him  the  honor  of  being 
a  good  judge  of  whisky.  The  "El  Dorado"  was  situated  at 
about  the  southeast  corner  of  the  Merced  theater. 

Along  toward  the  spring  of  1853,  the  Rev.  Adam  Bland, 
without  the  fear  of  the  virtuous  community  before  his  eyes, 
purchased  the  "  El  Dorado, "  pulled  down  its  sacred  sign,  and 
profanely  converted  it  into  a  Methodist  church  !  Alas,  poor 
Hughes  !  1  believe  it  broke  his  heart.  He  never  recovered 
from  the  blow.  It  broke  his  noble  spirit,  and  a  few  years  later, 
when  a  fair  Senorita  withheld  her  smiles  from  the  brilliant 
Hughes,  it  was  the  feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back,  and 
the  disconsolate  Hughes  joined  the  Crabbe  filibustering  expedi- 
tion to  Sonora  and  was  killed. 

From  the  "  El  Dorado  "  we  betook  ourselves  to  Aleck  Gibson's 
gambling  house  on  the  plaza,  where  a  well  kept  bar  was  in  full 
blast,  and  some  half  dozen  "  monte  banks  "  in  successful  opera- 
tion, each,  table  with  its  green  baize  cover,  being  literally  heaped 
with  piles  of  $50  ingots,  commonly  called  "  slugs. "  Betting 
was  high.  You  would  frequently  see  a  ranchero  with  an  im- 


28  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

mense  pile  of  gold  in  front  of  him,  quietly  and  unconcernedly 
smoking  his  cigarrito  and  betting  twenty  slugs  on  the  turn,  the 
losing  of  which  produced  no  perceptible  discomposure  of  his 
grave  countenance.  For  grave  self-possession  under  difficult 
and  trying  circumstances,  the  Spaniard  is  in  advance  of  all  na- 
tionalities that  I  know  of. 

From  the  great  gambling  house  on  the  plaza  we  hied  us  to 
the  classic  precincts  of  the  "Calle  de  los  Negros,"  which  was  the 
most  perfect  and  full  grown  pandemonium  that  this  writer, 
who  had  seen  the  "elephant"  before,  and  has  been  more  than 
familiar  with  him  under  many  phases  since,  has  ever  beheld. 
There  were  four  or  five  gambling  places,  and  the  crowd  from 
the  old  Coronel  building  on  the  Los  Angeles  street  corner  to 
the  plaza  was  so  dense  that  we  could  scarcely  squeeze  through. 
Americans,  Spaniards,  Indians  and  foreigners,  rushing  and 
crowding  along  from  one  gambling  house  to  another,  from 
table  to  table,  all  chinking  the  everlasting  eight  square  $50 
pieces  up  and  down  in  their  palms.  There  were  several  bands 
of  music  of  the  primitive  Mexican-Indian  kind,  that  sent  forth 
most  discordant  sound,  by  no  means  in  harmony  with  the  eter- 
nal jingle  of  gold — while  at  the  upper  end  of  the  street,  in  the 
rear  of  one  of  the  gambling  houses  was  a  Mexican  "Maroma" 
in  uproarious  confusion.  They  positively  made  night  hideous 
with  their  howlings.  Every  few  minutes  a  rush  would  be 
made,  and  may  be  a  pistol  shot  would  be  heard,  and  when  the 
confusion  incident  to  the  rush  would  have  somewhat  subsided, 
and  inquiry  made,  you  would  learn  that  it  was  only  a  knife 
fight  between  two  Mexicans,  or  a  gambler  had  caught  some- 
body cheating  and  had  perforated  him  with  a  bullet.  Such 
things  were  a  matter  of  course,  and  no  complaint  or  arrests 
were  ever  made.  An  officer  would  not  have  had  the  temerity 
to  attempt  an  arrest  in  "Negro  Alley,"  at  that  time. 

I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  in  the  years  of  1851,  '52 
and  '53,  there  were  more  desperadoes  in  Los  Angeles  than  in  any 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  29 

place  on  the  Pacific  coast,  San  Francisco  with  its  great  popu- 
lation not  excepted.  It  was  a  fact,  that  all  of  the  bad  charac- 
ters who  had  been  driven  from  the  mines  had  taken  refuge  in 
Los  Angeles,  for  the  reason  that  if  forced  to  move  further  on, 
it  was  only  a  short  ride  to  Mexican  soil,  while  on  the  other 
hand  all  of  the  outlaws  of  the  Mexican  frontier  made  for  the 
California  gold  mines,  and  the  cut-throats  of  California  and 
Mexico  naturally  met  at  Los  Angeles,  and  at  Los  Angeles  they 
fought.  Knives  and  revolvers  settled  all  differences,  either  real 
or  imaginary.  The  slightest  misunderstandings  were  settled 
on  the  spot  with  knife  or  bullet,  the  Mexican  preferring  the 
former  at  close  quarters  and  the  American  the  latter. 

During  the  years  of  '52  and  '53,  it  was  a  common  and  usual 
query  at  the  bar  or  breakfast  table,  "well,  how  many  were 
killed  last  night?  "  then  "who  was  it  ?  "  and  "  who  killed  him  ? ' 
The  year  '53  showed  an  average  mortality  from  fights  and  as- 
sassinations of  over  one  per  day  in  Los  Angeles.  In  the  year 
last  referred  to,  police  statistics  showed  a  greater  number  of 
murders  in  California  than  in  all  the  United  States  besides, 
and  a  greater  number  in  Los  Angeles  than  in  all  of  the  rest  of 
California.  The  desperadoes  set  all  law  at  defiance,  Sheriffs 
and  Marshals  were  killed  at  pleasure,  and  at  one  time  the  office 
of  Sheriff,  then  worth  $10,000  a  year,  went  a  begging;  the 
wheels  of  Justice  refused  to  revolve,  no  man  could  be  found 
bold  enough  to  come  forward  and  accept  the  office,  until  Jim 
Thompson  threw  himself  into  the  breach,  as  it  were,  and  be- 
came Sheriff  of  Los  Angeles  county,  when  two  predecessors  had 
been  assassinated  within  the  year  preceding  his  appointment. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Jim,  being  rich  at  the  time,  did 
not  need  or  want  the  office,  but  accepted  it  solely  on  the  urgent 
demand  of  the  Courts  of  Justice.  Robberies  were  of  rare  oc- 
currence, money  being  so  plentiful  and  so  easily  obtained  by 
gambling,  that  out-and-out  robbery  was  not  necessary. 

"Within  the  three  or  four  days  following  my  arrival,  several 


30  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

men  were  pointed  out  to  me  as  being  first-class  desperadoes, 
the  most  conspicuous  of  whom  was  "Crooked-nose  Smith," 
who  had  killed  his  half-dozen  men  in  the  upper  country,  and 
when  he  did  Los  Angeles  the  honor  of  his  presence,  he  gave 
out  the  comforting  assurance  that  he  would  not  kill  any  one 
until  just  before  he  would  depart  for  Mexico.  "Crooked  Nose" 
was  certainly  a  man  of  honor  as  well  as  a  first-class  artist,  for 
he  kept  his  promise  to  the  very  letter.  On  the  day  prior  to  his 
departure  he  did  us  the  honor  to  furnish  a  first-class  gambler 
for  breakfast.  He  politely  apologized  for  the  interruption  he 
had  caused  in  the  unusual  quiet  that  had  pervaded  the  atmos- 
phere of  our  beautiful  city,  by  saying  that  he  had  not  killed  a 
man  for  six  months,  and  he  feared  he  might  get  his  hand  out. 
"Crooked  Nose"  was  a  very  prince  of  a  desperado,  the  admira- 
tion and  envy  of  all  of  the  small-fry  members  of  the  profession 
• 
who  had  as  yet  only  killed  their  one  or  two  men. 

"Cherokee  Bob"  was  another  artist  of  great  merit,  and  was 
pointed  out  to  me  as  a  gentleman  of  great  consequence,  who 
had  killed  six  Chilenos  in  one  fight,  and  although  he  had  been 
riddled  with  bullets  and  ripped  and  sliced  with  knives,  yet  he 
had  never  failed  to  get  his  man  when  he  went  for  him. 

There  were  many  other  eminent  characters  who  proudly 
walked  the  streets  with  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  being 
looked  up  to  by  the  commonality  of  mankind.  In  the  inno- 
cent simplicity  of  my  heart,  1  mentally  exclaimed:  Surely  I 
am  not  only  in  the  City  of  the  Angels,  but  with  the  Angels 
here  I  dwell. 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A   BANGER.  31 


CHAPTER  II. 

Ricardo  Urives— He  Wipes  Out  Jim  Irvin's  Party— His  Encounter  with 
John  G.  Downey — A  Bloody  Affray  in  Nigger  Alley— Ricardo  Passes 
in  His  Checks — The  Black  Democrat — The  Court  of  the  Vigilance 
Committee — The  Doomed  Meii — The  Gallows — Hanging  Reyes  Feliz, 
Sandoval  and  Three  Others— The  Arkansas  Man  as  Hangman — The 
Last  of  the  First  Mob — Retribution — Fandango  at  the  Moreno  House— 
The  Marshal — J.  Thompson  Burrell's  Court  and  How  it  Was  Adjourned 
—Granger  and  Ogier — The  Mission  Indians — A  Slave  Mart. 


author  felt  highly  flattered  at  not  only  being  per- 
mitted to  breathe  the  same  air,  tread  the  same  soil, 
but  to  actually  live  in  the  same  town  and  to  meet, 
pass  and  repass,  on  terms  of  absolute  equality,  such  distin- 
guished men  as  those  referred  to.  The  privilege  was  certainly 
a  great  one,  and  the  author,  as  aforesaid,  was  prone  to  feel  and 
appreciate  it  to  its  fullest  extent.  Many  other  parties  who 
had  killed  their  half-dozen  were  pointed  out,  but,  save  and  ex- 
cept one,  I  think  "Crooked  Nose"  and  "Bob"  were  the  most 
entitled  to  mention.  The  exception  above  noted  was  a  native 
Californian,  named  Ricardo  Urives,  who,  in  manner  and  ap- 
pearance, was  the  most  perfect  specimen  of  a  desperado  I  ever 
beheld.  Ricardo  could  stand  more  shooting  and  stabbing  than 
the  average  bull  or  grizzly  bear.  I  remember  that  on  one 
lovely  Sabbath  afternoon,  Ricardo  got  into  a  fight  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  Calle  de  los  Negros,  and  was  beset  with  a  crowd 
fully  intent  on  securing  his  scalp.  He  was  attacked  in  front, 
rear  and  on  each  flank;  he  was  shot,  stabbed  and  stoned;  his 
clothes  were  literally  cut  from  his  body.  Still  he  fought  his 
way,  revolver  in  one  hand,  bowie  knife  in  the  other,  all  the 
way  past  the  old  Coronel  corner  to  Aliso  and  Los  Angeles 


32  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

streets,  where  his  horse  was  hitched.  He  quietly  mounted, 
bare-headed,  bleeding  from  at  least  a  score  of  wounds.  The 
crowd  had  fallen  back  into  the  narrow  street,  where  lay  some 
half-dozen  bleeding  victims  to  bear  witness  to  the  certainty  of 
Ricardo's  aim.  The  writer  had  witnessed  the  sanguinary  and 
desperate  affair  from  the  up-stairs  verandah  of  Captain  Bell's 
residence,  on  the  corner  of  Los  Angeles  and  Aliso  streets ;  and 
seeing  that  there  were  a  multitude  against  one,  felt  greatly  ex- 
cited in  favor  of  the  ope,  and  it  was  with  a  secret  prayer  of 
thanks  that  I  saw  the  heroic  fellow,  who  was  so  cut  and  carved 
that  his  own  mother  would  have  failed  to  recognize  him,  emerge 
from  the  crowded  street,  come  to  bay  and  drive  his  pursuers 
back.  What  then  was  my  surprise  to  see  him  deliberately  ride 
back  to  the  place  whence  he  had  so  miraculously  escaped. 

It  seemed  that  he  had  fired  the  last  shot  from  his  heavy 
Colt,  for  when  he  charged  through  the  street  he  used  his  re- 
volver as  a  war-club,  and  scattered  and  drove  his  enemies  like 
sheep.  He  then  rode  off  into  what  is  now  called  Sonora  and 
got  his  wounds  bandaged  up.  It  afterwards  transpired  that 
he  had  been  shot  three  times  in  the  body,  and  stabbed  all  over. 
He  then  put  in  a  full  hour  riding  up  and  down  Main  street  in 
front  of  the  Bella  Union,  daring  any  gringo  officer  to  arrest 
him.  None  being  bold  enough  to  make  the  attempt,  the  gentle 
Ricardo  took  his  quiet  departure  for  the  "  Rancho  de  los  Coy- 
otes," then  the  property  of  his  sister. 

Ricardo  was  brave,  an  army  of  one  hundred  thousand  of  his 
likes  would  be  invincible.  But  Ricardo's  courage  was  that  of 
the  lion  or  the  tiger,  and  like  those  barons  of  the  brute  crea- 
tion, when  brought  face  to  face  with  moral  as  well  as  physical 
courage,  the  animal  bravery  of  the  desperado  would  quail.  One 
day  a  quiet  young  gentleman  was  passing  through  Nigger  Al- 
ley, and  found  Don  Ricardo  on  the  war  path.  He  was  tor- 
menting, berating  and  abusing  every  one  who  came  in  his  way, 
and  was  particular  in  his  abuse  of  a  young  Mexican,  who 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  33 

seemed  to  be  a  stranger,  and  to  be  greatly  frightened.  The 
young  gentleman  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  authoritatively 
ordered  the  domineering  Don  to  desist.  The  astonishment  of 
Ricardo  was  beyond  description.  He  looked  contemptuously 
at  the  young  man  for  a  minute,  then  quietly  drawing  his  bowie 
started  deliberately  tor  him,  when,  in  an  instant,  he  was  cov- 
ered with  a  small  revolver,  and  commanded  to  stop.  "One 
more  step,"  said  the  gringo,  "and  you  are  a  dead  man."  With 
his  eye  he  caught  that  of  Ricardo,  and  gazed  fixedly  into  his 
terrible,  tiger-like  orbs.  Ricardo  halted  and  commenced  to 
threaten.  "Put  up  that  knife/'  said  the  young  gringo.  Ri- 
cardo flourished  his  knife  and  swore.  "Stop  that,"  said  the 
gringo,  with  his  eyes  still  riveted  on  those  of  the  human 
hyena.  The  Don  stopped.  Then  once  more,  "Put  up  that 
knife,  or  I  will  shoot  you  dead."  Ricardo  sheathed  his  bowie. 
"  Vayasse,"  "  Begone,"  said  the  gringo,  and  to  the  utter  aston- 
ishment of  the  congregated  crowd,  Ricardo  turned  and  slunk 
away.  At  this  juncture  Jim  Barton,  the  Sheriff,  with  a  party, 
arrived  on  the  scene,  and  congratulated  the  victorious  gringo  on 
his  achievement,  and  then  and  not  until  then,  did  the  gentle- 
man know  of  the  desperate  character  of  his  antagonist.  It 
was  a  fine  example  of  moral  and  physical  over  mere  brute  cour- 
age. The  young  gringo  referred  to,  then  a  stranger,  afterward 
became  Governor  of  the  great  State  of  California,  and  in  dis- 
charge of  the  high  trust  confided  to  him,  displayed  the  same 
degree  of  moral  courage  that  first  manifested  itself  in  the  mot- 
ley crowd  in  Calle  de  Los  Negros,  and  made  the  best  Gov- 
ernor, possibly,  our  State  ever  had.  The  young  gringo  and  ex- 
Governor  John  G.  Downey  are  one  and  the  same. 

It  will  be  the  duty  of  the  chronicler  to  make  one  more  men- 
tion of  the  redoubtable  Ricardo,  and  then  permit  him  to  hand 
in  his  checks.  I  think  it  was  about  a  year  after  the  great  fight 
above  referred  to,  which  took  place  in  the  summer  of  1853,  that 
a  bullet  hit  the  Don  in  a  vital  part  and  sent  him  to  "  kingdom 


34  REMINISCENCES   OF   A   RANGER. 

come."  It  is  somewhat  of  a  digression,  but  I  may  as  well  tell 
the  story  now  as  at  any  time.  It  was  in  1851  that  Jim  Irvin, 
with  a  gang  of  desperadoes  to  the  number  of  twenty-five  or 
thirty,  stopped  at  Los  Angeles  on  their  way  to  Mexico,  in 
search  of  ladies  fair  and  pastures  green.  Some  of  the  gang 
found  some  friends  in  jail,  and  soon  to  be  tried  in  the  District 
Court,  then  sitting  in  the  old  Bella  Union.  Jim  concluded  to 
take  the  prisoners  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Sheriff,  and  take 
them  along  with  him,  and  waited  for  them  to  be  brought  out 
for  trial  with  that  object  in  view.  It  happened  that  a  party  of 
United  States  troops  were  temporarily  camped  near  the  city, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  put  in  an  appearance  just 
at  the  time  the  prisoners  were  to  be  brought  in.  The  Court 
opened.  Jim  Irvin  marched  in  with  his  gang  and  grimly 
awaited  the  arrival  of  the  prisoners,  who  were  presently  at 
hand,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  platoon  of  troops  drew  up  be- 
fore the  door,  and  an  officer  came  into  Court  with  the  Sheriff. 
Jim  and  his  gang  were  given  permission  to  leave  the  country, 
otherwise  they  would  be  arrested. 

"There  was  mounting  'monp  grearaes  of  the  Netherby  clan; 
Fosters,  Fenwicks,  and  Musgraves,  they  rode  and  they  ran." 

The  above  lines  can  well  be  applied  to  Irvin's  gang,  who  were 
ready  and  willing  to  override  the  civil  officers,  but  were  quite 
loth  to  an  encounter  with  United  States  dragoons.  They  went 
directly  to  the  Coyotes  Ranch,  thirty  miles  from  the  city,  on 
the  road  to  Mexico.  On  their  arrival  in  the  evening,  they  sur- 
prised the  ranch  and  made  a  hostage  of  Ricardo,  whom  they 
tied  up  and  threatened  to  shoot  unless  he  had  the  best  horses 
the  ranch  could  afford  driven  up,  ready  for  their  inspection,  by 
daylight  in  the  morning.  All  of  their  demands  were  complied 
with  to  the  very  letter.  Supper  was  prepared  for  them,  wine 
set  out,  and  they  were  permitted  without  objection  to  appro- 
priate what  articles  they  chose,  such  as  saddles,  blankets,  pro- 
visions, etc.,  and  the  ranch  at  the  time  was  one  of  the  richest 


•       REMINISCENCES   OF   A   RANGER.  35 

and  best  supplied  in  the  county.  Sefior  Ocampo  and  wife  were 
then  in  the  city,  and  Ricardo  was  major  domo,  and  in  charge  of 
the  estate. 

In  the  morning,  after  appropriating  what  they  wanted  of  the 
most  valuable  horses,  the  gang  packed  up  and  left,  immedi- 
ately after  which  Ricardo  was  released.  Without  saying  a 
word,  or  leaving  an  order,  he  mounted  a  horse.  He  had  under- 
stood enough  of  the  conversation  carried  on  between  the  robbers 
to  know  that  they  were  going  to  the  Colorado  river,  and  would 
go  through  the  San  Gorgonio  Pass.  He  started  in  hot  haste 
across  the  Chino  Hills  to  get  in  ahead  of  the  party,  whom  he 
had  doomed  to  destruction.  Long  before  the  glorious  orb  of 
day  ceased  to  cast  his  beaming  rays  on  the  hoaiy  head  of  grim 
old  Mt.  San  Bernardino,  Ricardo  lay  in  silent  ambush  with  a 
chosen  band  of  Cahuilla  Indians,  who,  at,  the  time,  were  nu- 
merous in  the  vicinity  of  San  Gorgonio.  They  had  not  long  to 
wait.  About  sunset  the  devoted  party  came  in  sight,  hilari- 
ous, as  only  men  can  be  who  have  no  thought  beyond 
the  immediate  present.  They  rode  quietly  into  the  ambush 
and  were  slaughtered  to  a  man.  The  Indians,  v/ho  thought  it 
to  be  a  perfectly  legitimate  transaction,  gave  a  minute  account 
of  the  affair,  and  said  that  Ricardo  fought  like  a  fiend  incar- 
nate ;  and  while  they  (  the  Indians  )  fought  from  their  place  of 
concealment,  Ricardo  rushed  forth  on  horseback,  and,  meeting 
his  foes  face  to  face,  let  them  know  that  he  was  the  avenger  of 
his  own  wrongs. 

The  author  had  the  gorgeous  honor  of  eating  beef  stewed  in 
red  pepper,  beans  and  tortillas,  at  Ricardo's  table,  partak- 
ing of  his  hospitality  under  his  own  roof-tree,  and  discussing 
this  whole  question  with  him ;  and,  while  placing  him  in  the 
front  rank  of  desperadoes,  it  is  only  justice  to  say  that,  though 
desperate  he  emphatically  was,  he  was  neither  robber  nor  gam- 
bler, but  a  good-hearted,  honest  fellow,  who  just  fought  for  the 
very  love  of  fighting,  for  fighting  was  the  order  of  the  day,  and 


36  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

a  man  who  could  not  fight  was  forced  into  a  back  seat,  like  the 
poor  boy  at  the  frolic. 

On  the  day  following  my  arrival  in  this  famed  city  of  the 
South,  then  by  some  designated  "the  City  of  Vineyards,"  I 
betook  myself  to  the  city  barber,  Peter  Biggs  by  name,  after- 
ward and  during  the  days  of  the  great  sectional  strife  known  as 
the  "Black  Democrat."  "Don  Pedro,"  so  styled  by  his  Mexi- 
can friends,  was  a  famous  character,  and  the  writer  proposes  to 
do  his  best  in  conferring  the  meed  of  immortality  where  it  so 
justly  belongs,  in  trying  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  this  il- 
lustrious and  necessary  appendage  to  Los  Angeles  society,  who, 
for  the  period  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  or  more,  certainly 
made  himself  known  and  felt  in  certain  quarters  of  this  emi- 
nently virtuous  community.  Pete  advertised  in  the  Star  to 
"'  shave  and  shampoo,  wait  on  the  gentlemen,  run  eirands,  and 
make  himself  generally  useful."  Pete  vras  a  Virginian,  so  he 
informed  me  while  for  the  first  time  submitting  to  his  barber- 
ous  manipulations,  and  came  here  as  the  servant  of  Captain  A. 
J.  Smith,  of  the  dragoons,  afterwards  famed  as  General  com- 
manding the  16th  army  corps  of  Sherman's  army  ;  that  he  had 
made  a  great  deal  of  money  in  various  speculations  ;  that  he 
had  married  a  Spanish  lady  ;  that  the  community,  "  'specially 
de  ladies  and  gentlemen/'  could  by  no  means  get  along  without 
him.  He  said  he  knew  all  of  the  ladies,  and  sometimes  carried 
messages  from  gentlemen  to  them,  and  was  always  ready  and 
more  than  happy  to  introduce  a  stranger  to  female  society,  and 
to  act  as  interpreter  when  occasion  demanded.  At  this  point 
Pete  came  to  a  period,  seemingly  anticipating  that  the  author 
would  make  some  pertinent  remark  ;  failing  in  which,  Pete 
broke  the  embarrassing  silence  by  saying  :  "  Would  ye  like  to 
make  de  'quaintance  of  some  of  de  ladies  ?  "  I  thereupon  in- 
formed him  that  1  had  friends  here  who  would  in  all  proba- 
bility introduce  me  into  such  female  society  as  would  be  proper 
for  one  of  my  youth  and  inexperience  to  know,  and  at  the  same 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  37 

time  informed  him  who  my  friends  were,  at  which  Pete  seemed 
for  a  moment  "  run  chock-a-block,"  but  soon  rallied  and  said : 
"  You  see  I  doesn't  mean  ladies  ob  dat  high-up  class  ;  I  means 
de  kind  ob  ladies  dat's  always  anxious  to  make  de  'quaintance 
ob  strangers  ;  'specially  dose  dats  got  plenty  ob  de  spondulix." 

This  eminently  pious  historian  was  then  a  most  unsophisti- 
cated youth,  but  he  had  read  "  Gil  Bias,"  and  lost  little  time 
in  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  Don  Pedro  occupied  the  same 
relative  position  toward  the  resident  female  Angels,  that  the 
renowned  Gil  occupied  toward  the  Prince  of  Spain. 

It  is  said  the  first  '•'  corner "  ever  made  in  California,  was 
made  on  tacks.  A  shrewd  Yankee,  in  1849,  observing  that 
tacks  were  indispensable  in  all  mining  and  building  operations, 
and  that  the  wheels  of  progress  would  cease  to  revolve  if  the 
supply  of  tacks  was  cut  off  for  even  a  day,  went  to  work  and 
bought  up  all  of  the  tacks  in  San  Francisco  and  all  of  the  in- 
voices on  the  way  around  the  Horn,  to  arrive  within  the  next 
three  months.  The  result  was  he  monopolized  the  tack  trade, 
and  sold  tacks  for  gold,  ounce  for  ounce,  and  thereby  made  a 
splendid  fortune.  The  next  and  second  "  corner  "  made  was  in 
"  cats,"  and  that  was  made  by  the  renowned  subject  of  this 
sketch,  and  this  is  the  way  he  did  it: 

In  1849,  San  Francisco  was  over-supplied  with  rats,  without 
a  corresponding  supply  of  cats.  The  supply  of  cats  in  Los 
Angeles  was  over-abundant,  while  of  rats  there  were  few.  It 
was  therefore  left  to  the  fertile  brain  of  this  distinguished  Vir- 
ginian to  equalize  this  great  seeming  inequality  in  the  nature 
of  things.  Consequently  he  went  to  work  and  gathered  up  all 
of  the  cats  he  could  get,  either  by  hook  or  crook  (  rumor  had 
it  that  the  most  of  the  feline  merchandise  was  obtained  by  the 
former  process  )  caged  them  up  and  shipped  them,  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. Having  the  only  cats  in  market,  and  cats  being  a  ne- 
cessity, Pete  was  supreme  dictator  as  to  prices,  and  sold  his 
cats,  several  hundred  in  number,  at  prices  ranging  at  from  $16 


38  REMINISCENCES    OF   A    RANGER. 

to  $100  each,  and  thereby  made  a  handsome  fortune.  Alas, 
poor  Pete  !  His  riches  soon  took  wings. 

Like  all  great  men  of  the  period,  Pete  was  addicted  to  gam- 
bling, and  the  product  of  his  magnificent  cat  speculation  went 
to  fill  the  coffers  of  the  gambler  princes  of  the  Bay  City.  It 
was  said  that  Pete  lost  every  dollar,  and  though  broken  in  for- 
tune the  fertility  of  his  resources  still  stood  him  in  hand.  Two 
coops  of  cats  were  left  exposed  to  the  wind  and  weather,  on 
the  vessel,  and  some  100  cats  were  drowned.  Pete  sought 
counsel  from  some  adventurous  limb  of  the  law,  who  had  the 
vessel  libeled  and  forced  a  compromise  in  Pete's  favor  to  the 
amount  of  several  hundred  dollars.  With  the  small  portion 
thereof  pertaining  to  himself,  the  crestfallen  forestaller  of  the 
San  Francisco  cat  market  returned  to  the  bosom  of  his  devoted 
Angel,  a  wiser  it  not  a  richer  man. 

Pete  was  an  unfortunate  cuss,  always  in  some  scrape,  one  of 
which  I  am  going  to  relate.  It  happened  in  1851  that  a  great 
ball  was  given  at  the  house  where  now  stands  the  First  National 
Bank.  It  was  attended  by  all  of  the  hard  cases  of  the  city, 
among  whom  was  that  celebrated  character  Aleck  Bell,  of  whom 
more  will  be  said  hereafter.  The  ball  opened,  the  music  struck 
up,  and  Aleck  presented  himself  before  the  belle  of  the  ball- 
room, Doria  Ramona,  sometimes  known  as  Mrs.  Fremont,  for 
the  reason  1  believe  that  this  well  known  lady  of  the  demi- 
monde had  cast  the  sunshine  of  her  maiden  affection  on  the  con- 
quering hero,  General  Fremont,  when  he  set  himself  up  as  mili- 
tary Governor  of  California.  Aleck  asked  the  honor  of  her 
hand  in  the  opening  waltz.  The  Senorita  graciously  informed 
the  gallant  Aleck  that  she  was  engaged  for  the  first  dance,  but 
he  could  certainly  be  gratified  in  the  second.  Aleck  retired  to 
the  crowd  of  lookers-on,  highly  delighted  at  the  prospective 
pleasure,  and  awaited  the  coming  event.  Finally  the  music 
commenced,  and  what  was  Aleck's  disgust  at  beholding  the 
rascally  Pete,  in  all  the  glory  of  a  swallow-tailed  coat,  brass 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A    BANGER.  39 

buttons,  white  vest  and  gloves,  redolent  with  all  the  perfume 
of  "  Araby  the  blest,"  shuffle  up  to  the  much  coveted  belle  of 
the  ball-room,  and  with  one  arm  encircling  her  spider-like 
waist,  sail  off  in  the  whirling,  giddy  waltz.  This  was  more 
than  Southern  blood  could  stand,  and  out  came  Aleck's  Colt. 
The  music  was  stopped  and  Aleck  stepped  up  to  Dona  Rauiona, 
and  inquired  of  her  if  she  "  preferred  dancing  with  a  nigger  to 
a  white  man."  She  replied  that  "  in  this  particular  instance 
she  did;  that  Don  Pedro  was  'El  Bastoinero,'  (master  of  cere- 
monies) and  she  deemed  it  a  high  privilege  to  accompany  him 
in  the  opening  waltz."  This  was  adding  insult  to  injury. 
Aleck's  chivalry  would  not  permit  him  to  lay  violent  hands  on 
the  lady,  but  satisfaction  he  mu§t  have.  So  he  blazed  away  at 
Pete,  who  bolted  for  the  door  with  Aleck  hot  after  him.  In 
the  meantime,  and  on  the  instant,  as  was  always  the  case  when 
a  row  was  raised,  the  gentlemen  present  commenced  shooting 
the  lights  out,  as  a  matter  of  amusement,  in  which  one  in- 
dividual was  accidentally  perforated.  Pete  gained  the  street 
and  started  off  like  a  quarter  horse  down  Main  street.  It  so 
happened  that  General  Bean's  volunteers  then  occupied  the 
city,  which  at  that  particular  time  had  on  a  big  Indian  scare. 
Every  street  corner  had  a  posted  sentinel,  while  small  mounted 
parties  patrolled  the  suburbs.  Escaping  from  the  scene  of  gay 
festivities  and  threatened  assassination,  the  hapless  Pete,  in 
passing  the  United  States  Hotel  corner,  narrowly  escaped  death 
from  the  sentry,  who  let  fly  at  him.  At  the  American  Bakery 
corner  he  was  treated  to  another  fusilade,  which  drew  to  the 
place  a  mounted  patrol,  who,  when  made  aware  of  the  situa- 
tion, dashed  off  in  full  chase.  Coming  up  with  the  unfortunate 
fugitive  at  about  the  point  where  the  Bound  House  now  stands, 
they  turned  loose  on  him  with  their  revolvers,  but  the  noble 
"  Democrat "  escaped  into  the  vineyard  on  the  left  without  so 
much  as  a  scratch;  but,  said  Pete:  "De  good  Lord  knows  dis 
chile  nebber  stopped  running  till  he  got  to  San  Pedro." 


40  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Many,  at  the  time,  thought  that  the  poor  fellow  had  been 
mortally  wounded,  and  had  got  into  some  hiding-place  and  died. 
The  whole  town  grieved,  none  more  so  than  Aleck  Bell,  who 
had  the  best  of  feeling  toward  the  gallant  Don  Pedro,  and  only 
tried  to  murder  him  in  vindication  of  his  outraged  chivalry. 

In  a  day  or  two,  however,  Pete  sent  a  courier  to  the  city,  to 
the  great  relief  of  everybody,  with  an  apology  to  the  Americans 
in  general,  and  to  Captain  Bell  in  particular,  and  promised 
that,  if  permitted  to  return,  to  ever  after  keep  his  place — a 
promise  religiously  kept  by  him  so  far  as  the  Americans  were 
concerned. 

During  the  great  civil  war,  like  many  other  great  men,  Pete 
felt  his  allegiance  to  be  due  to  his  native  Virginia — first,  last, 
and  always — and  accordingly  gave  the  weight  of  his  influence 
to  the  "Lost  Cause;"  hence  the  cognomen  of  "Black  Demo- 
crat." 

Like  most  of  the  truly  eminent  characters  of  our  early  history, 
Pete  died  with  his  boots  on,  after  having  been  the  hero  of  many 
bloody  scrimmages,  and  his  taking  off  occurred  in  this  way: 
Pete,  in  company  with  another  gentleman,  went  into  a  restaurant 
in  the  Signoret  building  and  ordered  dinner.  The  Mexican 
waiter,  while  serving  them,  was  deemed  guilty  of  some  breach 
of  conventional  good  manners,  and  as  none  knew  better  how  to 
wait  on  a  gentleman,  none  were  more  exacting  in  demanding 
the  utmost  punctilio  on  the  part  of  those  who  waited  on  him. 
So,  for  his  delinquency,  Pete  commenced  to  hurl  epithets,  ac- 
companied with  cups,  saucers  and  plates  at  the  waiter,  who 
waited  until  Spanish  forbearance  could  wait  no  longer,  when  he 
responded  by  shying  a  carving-knife,  which  perforated  a  vital 
part  of  Pete's  body  and  sent  him  to  Abraham's  bosom. 

We  all  felt  the  loss  of  Pete  to  be  irreparable.  His  place  has 
not  been,  and  probably  never  will  be,  supplied.  Many  mourn- 
ers followed  the  great  man  to  his  last  resting-place.  His  slayer 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  41 

walks  our  streets  to-day,  of  course  proudly  conscious  of  having 
killed  a  distinguished  character. 

I  believe  it  was  about  the  fourth  day  after  my  arrival  that 
the  prisoners,  who  had  been  undergoing  examination  before  the 
sub-committee,  were  brought  to  the  Court  House,  where  the 
final  report  of  the  committee  was  to  be  submitted  to  the  great 
self-constituted  court  of  justice-loving  Americans. 

Abbott's  bath  house  was  then  used  as  a  Court  House,  and  a 
high  old  court  it  was,  too,  I  assure  you.  The  place  was  packed 
to  suffocation,  with  a  dense  crowd  outside.  "  Old  Horse-Face  " 
presided  over  the  court.  The  report  of  the  committee  was  first 
read  on  the  case  of  Reyes  Feliz,  and  the  President  then  in  sol- 
emn voice  said  :  "  Gentlemen,  the  court  is  now  ready  to  hear 
any  motion."  Whereupon  a  ferocious  looking  gambler  mounted 
a  bench  and  said  : 

"  I  move  that  Reyes  Feliz  be  taken  to  the  hill  and  hung  by 
the  neck  until  he  be  dead." 

"  All  in  favor  of  the  motion  will  signify  the  same  by  saying 
'  aye '  !  "  said  the  President,  gravely. 

II  Aye  !  aye  !  aye  ! "  yelled  the  mob,  and  Reyes  Feliz  was  a 
doomed  man.     The  same  ceremony  was  gone  through  with  in 
all  the  other  cases,  including  Cipriano  Sandoval,  the  poor  inno- 
cent village  cobbler  of  San  Gabriel. 

When  they  came  to  the  case  of  the  real  murderer,  a  motion 
was  made  that  "  Felipe  Read  be  turned  over  to  the  legally  con- 
stituted authorities,"  and,  strange  to  say,  the  motion  was  car- 
ried without  a  dissenting  vote.  Felipe,  the  red-handed  mur- 
derer, was  accordingly  turned  over  to  the  Sheriff,  and  imme- 
diately thereafter  bailed  and  set  at  liberty.  No  effort  was  ever 
made  to  bring  him  to  justice,  and  he  died  in  his  bed  some  years 
later  in  a  natural  way.  So  much  for  the  wisdom  of  a  mob. 

All  of  this  occurred  on  a  Saturday,  and  the  following  day 
was  set  for  carrying  into  execution  the  sentences  of  the  court. 
By  the  time  the  town  was  astir  next  morning  the  ugly  gallows 


42        .  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

could  be  seen  on  Fort  Hill,  with  its  horrid  arms  extended,  as 
though  defying  the  vengeance  of  man,  or  invoking  the  God  of 
Justice.  At  9  o'clock  a  herald  paraded  the  streets,  ringing  a 
large  dinner  bell,  and  with  loud  voice  summoning  the  faithful 
to  the  feast;  and  at  about  the  same  hour  heavy  clouds  over- 
spread the  sky,  as  though  an  angel  had  in  charity  thrown  its 
mantle  over  the  scene  to  shut  out  the  horrid  spectacle  from  the 
face  of  heaven,  and  it  commenced  to  rain.  An  hour  later  the 
crowd,  with  the  condemned  men,  arrived  at  the  gallows.  Old 
Father  Anacleto,  with  his  shorn  crown  bared  to  the  storm,  his 
sacred  robes  drabbled  with  mud  and  dripping  with  water,  to- 
tally oblivious  to  the  surrounding  tumult,  thoroughly  absorbed 
in  his  mission  of  mercy,  devotedly  accompanied  the  doomed 
culprits,  administering  the  sweet  consolations  of  the  church, 
and  so,  with  the  executioner  and  the  doomed  men,  he  mounted 
the  scaffold.  When  all  was  ready,  the  victims  were  given  per- 
mission to  speak.  All  maintained  a  dogged  silence  except  the 
poor  cobbler  Sandoval,  who  made  a  brief  speech.  He  hoped 
the  great  God  would  pardon  his  murderers  as  he  pardoned 
them,  and  said  that  he  died  innocent,  without  a  crime.  They 
all  kissed  the  crucifix,  the  rope  was  cut,  the  trap  fell,  and  the 
five  men  were  launched  into  eternity.  A  peal  of  thunder  an- 
nounced the  end  of  the  tragedy. 

Slowly  and  silently  the  crowd  dispersed.  The  rain  com- 
menced to  fall  in  torrents,  and  the  grim  bar-tender  of  the  Bella 
Union  reaped  a  golden  harvest  on  that  gloomy  Sabbath  after- 
noon. The  murdered  men  were  taken  down  and  perhaps  buried 
by  friendly  Christian  hands,  and  so  ended  the  first  great  lynch- 
ing in  this  very  moral  and  justice-loving  community.  I  say 
the  first  great  lynching.  I  will,  however,  qualify  by  saying 
that  some  months  previous,  one  Zabalete  had  been  hung  by  the 
lynchers. 

The  author  retired  early  on  that  evening,  pondering  sadly 
and  solemnly  over  tbe  events  of  the  day,  and  could  not  refrain 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER.  43 

from  thinking  that  humanity  would  have  been  greatly  benefit- 
ted,  if  about  four-fifths  of  that  mob  had  been  disposed  of  in 
the  same  way  as  had  been  the  hapless  Mexicans  who  were 
hung. 

There  is  an  old  and  trite  saying  that  "  great  revolutions 
bring  to  the  surface  great  men."  Such  was  the  case  in  this  in- 
stance. An  immigrant  from  Arkansas  had  been  stalking 
around  the  streets  for  some  days  previous,  in  a  ragged  and  half- 
clad  condition.  Like  Jonah,  he  perceived  an  opening  and 
stepped  in.  He  came  forward  and  offered  his  services  for  a 
consideration,  to  act  as  executioner.  A  purse  was  accordingly 
raised  in  his  behalf,  and  the  great  man  from  Arkansas  became 
the  hangman  of  the  mob.  The  day  following  the  lynching,  the 
uncouth  Arkansas  man  appeared  on  the  streets  dressed  in  the 
very  extreme  of  elegant  and  expensive  fashion.  He  soon  there- 
after became  the  village  pedagogue,  and  advertised  in  the  Star 
"  a  school  for  boys  and  girls."  At  the  next  municipal  election, 
the  elegant  hangman  was  honored  by  our  people  by  being 
elected  City  Marshal,  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale,  which  I  will 
now  unfold. 

About  June,  1853,  the  southern  counties  were  overrun  by 
Mexican  banditti,  and  two  companies  of  Rangers  were  raised, 
one  in  Calaveras  county  and  one  here  in  Los  Angeles.  On  Sunday 
night  at  about  9  o'clock,  the  Marshal  appeared  at  the  Ranger 
barracks,  then  located  at  the  corner  of  Los  Angeles  and  Requena 
streets,  where  Messmer's  wine-store  now  is.  He  asked  for  a  de- 
tail to  go  to  a  fandango  at  the  Moreno  Houso,  then  located  at 
the  south  end  of  the  present  Brooks  building,  to  arrest  some 
thieves  known  to  be  at  the  ball  at  the  Moreno's.  The  men 
were  promptly  furnished,  and  they  started  to  the  place  of  up- 
roarious enjoyment.  The  Marshal,  however,  made  an  excuse 
to  go  home  and  get  an  extra  revolver,  and  the  party  of  Rangers, 
arriving  at  the  fandango  found  everything  so  agreeable,  that 
instead  of  making  arrests  they  were  immediately  taken  into 


44  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

custody  by  an  overwhelming  array  of  black-eyed  Seiloritas,  and 
in  the  giddy  mazes  of  the  dance  and  under  the  exhilarating  in- 
fluences of  Los  Angeles  wine,  soon  became  oblivious  of  the  Mar- 
shal, Mexican  thieves,  and  all  else  save  and  except  the  wine  and  the 
women  aforesaid.  So  the  time  gayly  glided  by  until  long  past 
midnight,  when  the  dance  broke  up  and  the  Rangers  bethought 
themselves  of  their  mission  and  the  Marshal.  They  accordingly 
held  a  consultation,  and  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
Marshal  had  played  them  a  shabby  trick.  They  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  the  official  residence,  and  found  the  delinquent  chief 
in  the  arms  of  his  newly  wedded  bride,  who,  by  the  by,  had 
another  husband,  then  living,  I  believe,  at  El  Monte.  They 
woke  him  up,  and  informed  him  that  they  had  had  a  bloody  fight 
at  the  fandango,  that  two  of  their  number  had  been  killed,  that 
a  large  force  of  thieves  held  the  fandango  house,  that  the 
whole  Ranger  company  were  under  arms,  and  that  the  Captain 
desired  the  presence  of  the  Marshal,  and  that  he  would  march 
on  the  f?*ndango  house,  and  make  mince-meat  of  the  Mexican 
outlaws,  etc. 

Notwithstanding  the  Rangers  demanded  expedition  on  the 
part  of  the  police  official,  it  required  at  least  half  an  hour  for 
him  to  make  his  [toilet.  At  last,  with  a  patient  effort,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  stretching  a  splendid  kid  glove  over  his  immense  paw, 
and  with  his  gold-headed  cane  under  his  arm  he  stepped  into 
the  street.  Where'upon  a  couple  of  stalwart  Rangers  took  hold 
of  him  by  each  arm,  and  informed  him  that  he  was  a  prisoner. 
They  conducted  him  to  the  great  open  water  ditch  that  then 
crossed  San  Pedro  street  at  its  junction  with  First.  Arriving 
there  a  court-martial  was  organized,  which  proceeded  to  try  the 
Marshal  on  a  charge  of  treason  and  desertion.  Of  course  he 
was  found  guilty,  and  the  military  code  was  read  to  him  from 
a  greasy  pack  of  "  monte  cards."  After  defining  the  crime,  the 
penalty  was  fixed  at  "  cat-hauling  in  the  public  water-ditch." 
No  sooner  said  than  done.  A  rope  was  speedily  thrown  around 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  45 

the  astonished  representative  of  official  pomposity,  whose  arms 
were  pinioned,  and  the  irate  Bangers  amused  themselves  until 
the  break  of  day  in  dragging  the  proud  dignitary  up  and  down 
the  water  ditch,  when  they  left  him  more  dead  than  alive 
and  retired  to  their  barracks.  At  about  noon  on  the  same  day 
the  crestfallen  man  from  Arkansas  appeared  at  the  Court  of 
Justice  J.  Thompson  Burrill,  and  swore  out  a  warrant  for  the 
arrest  of  the  Hangers,  who  were  accordingly  arrested,  and  ap- 
peared for  trial  on  the  following  day.  Kimball  H.  Dimrnick, 
the  District  Attorney,  appeared  in  vindication  of  the  outraged 
majesty  of  the  law,  and  Tom  H ,  a  young  merchant,  ap- 
peared for  the  accused  Bangers.  Dimmick  and  Tom  at  once 
commenced  the  preliminary  legal  sparring.  Dimrnick  was  light 
on  law,  and  Tom  was  heavy  on  big  words.  Dimmick  finally 
cornered  Tom  on  a  legal  proposition,  and  Tom  could  only  escape 
by  adjourning  Court,  which  he  did  by  capsizing  the  Court, 
bench  and  all,  whereupon  the  Bangers  went  to  work  and 
smashed  the  tables,  broke  the  chairs,  and  tore  things  up  gen- 
erally, the  Court,  constable  and  prosecuting  witness  promptly 
giving  leg-bail,  and  so  ended  this  remarkable  episode.  And  so 
ended  the  official  career  of  that  illustrious  character,  born  of 
the  first  great  Los  Angeles  mob.  His  usefulness  as  an  officer 
was  at  an  end.  The  boys  would  hoot  him  on  the  street,  and 

• 

he  was  forced  to  resign. 

I  will  now  relate  one  more  incident  in  the  brief  official  career 
of  this  distinguished  character,  then  I  will  consign  him  to  the 
life  of  vagabondism  that  he  has  led  down  to  the  present  day. 
It  was  in  this  way:  About  May,  '53,  the  Los  Angeles  bar  got 
on  a  bust,  in  honor  of  the  arrival  of  an  Iowa  lawyer,  General 
Ezra  Drown.  The  bar  smiled  at  the  Bella  Union  bar,  and  took 
it  straight  and  mixed  at  the  "  Montgomery."  They  all  in  turn 
treated  at  Aleck  Gibson's  and  raided  on  Nigger  alley.  They 
serenaded  on  Main  street,  and  finally  brought  up  at  Madam 
Barrierre's,  where  the  White  House  now  stands,  and  ordered 


46  REMINISCENCES   OF   A   RANGER. 

champagne  and  cigars  first,  then  supper,  with  champagne  and 
cigars  ad  libitum.  And  then  the  jolly  crowd  appointed  a  chair- 
man and  commenced  giving  and  responding  to  each  other's 
toasts.  On  their  whole  rounds  they  were  accompanied  by  the 
pompous  Marshal,  who  pretended  to  afford  his  official  protec- 
tion to  the  roystering  limbs  of  the  law,  but  really  to  get  a 
deluging  supply  of  gratuitous  liquid  comfort. 

About  midnight  the  crowd  had  become  hilariously  noisy, 
and  all  wanted  to  speak  at  once.  Lewis  C.  Granger  had  the 
floor,  and  offered  as  a  toast,  "  The  descendants  of  the  French 
Huguenots  in  America."  The  toast  was  intended  as  a  com- 
pliment to  the  United  States  District  Attorney,  who  claimed  to 
be  of  "  Huguenot  origin,"  although  his  paternal  ancestors  were 
thought  to  be  of  the  Hibernian  stock.  He,  however,  construed 
the  toast  into  an  insult,  and  responded  by  hurling  a  tumbler  at 
the  head  of  Lewis  C.,  and  then  the  North  and  the  South  met 
in  mortal  combat.  What  the  result  might  have  been,  no  one 
of  that  crowd  was  sober  enough  to  even  surmise,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  interposition  of  the  officious  head  of  the  infantile 
city  police,  whose  head  and  tail  was  composed  of  the  Marshal 
aforesaid,  who  rushed  between  the  two  combatants.  Lewis  C. 
rery  adroitly  slipped  to  one  side,  and  the  furious  United  States 
legal  luminary  downed  the  Arkansas  man,  and  chawed  his  nose 
until  it  resembled  a  magnificent  pounded  and  peppered  beef- 
steak. 

On  the  following  day  the  Marshal  appeared  at  Thompson 
Burrill's  Court,  with  his  nose  in  a  sling,  and  had  the  United 
States  Attorney  arrested  on  a  charge  of  assaulting  an  officer  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty,  but  the  thing  was  amicably  arranged 
and  the  high  Federal  dignitary  did  the  self-important  Los  An- 
geles official  the  honor  to  walk  arm  in  arm  with  him  to  the 
Bella  Union,  where  they  smiled  at  the  bar  and  swore  eternal 
friendship. 

The  author  will  neither  attempt  to  moralize  or  criticise,  nor 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER.  47 

pass  judgment  on  the  action  of  that  vigilance  committee;  only 
that  in  the  minds  of  unprejudiced  persons  at  the  time,  the  hang- 
ing of  the  poor  village  cobbler  of  San  Gabriel  was  considered  an 
unmitigated  and  deliberate  murder.  ^e  has  ere  this,  in  all 
probability,  met  and  confronted  his  murderers  at  the  judgment 
seat  of  the  great  Eternal,  for  the  reason  that,  as  the  author  be- 
lieves, the  last  actor  in  that  outrageous  affair  has  passed  away 
from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Some  may  have  died  in  a  natural 
way,  many  died  in  the  gutter,  others  in  bloody  broils — they  all 
seemed  doomed  to  miserable  ends.  All  have  handed  in  their 
mortal  checks,  unless,  perchance,  the  gay  and  pompous  official 
aforesaid,  the  hangman,  who  now  walks  the  face  of  God's  beau- 
tiful green  earth,  a  living  and  hideous  mass  of  human  rotten- 
ness and  festering  corruption,  shunned  even  by  the  canine  street 
scavengers,  viewed  not  with  pity,  but  with  loathing  and  disgust, 
even  by  the  most  debased  of  mankind.  Twenty-four  years  after 
his  outrageous  participation  in  the  bloody  drama  above  de- 
scribed, the  hangman  appeared  on  the  streets  of  this  fair  city, 
an  outcast  from  society  and  a  beggar  for  alms.  The  wheels  of 
justice  revolve  slowly,  but  in  this  instance  they  seem  to  have 
got  around  with  remarkable  precision.  For  such  is  the  last  of 
the  first  great  mob  of  Los  Angeles. 

For  the  week  following  these  extra  judicial  executions  the 
town  was  remarkably  quiet,  but  on  the  Sunday  following  I  wit- 
nessed a  sight  that  if  it  could  be  seen  now  would  fill  the  mind 
with  loathing  and  disgust.  At  the  time  referred  to,  1851-52- 
53,  the  Mission  Indians  were  numerous.  They  had  only  been 
emancipated  from  the  rule  of  the  Mission  fathers  a  few  years 
prior  to  the  advent  of  the  Americans,  and  their  number  at  the 
time  seemed  without  limit. 

These  thousands  of  Indians  had  been  held  in  the  most  rigid 
discipline  by  the  Mission  fathers,  and  after  their  emancipation 
by  the  Supreme  Government  of  Mexico,  had  been  reasonably 
well  governed  by  the  local  authorities,  who  found  in  them  in- 


48  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

dispensable  auxiliaries  as  farmers  and  harvesters,  hewers  of 
wood  and  drawers  of  water,  and  besides  the  best  horse  breakers 
and  herders  in  the  world,  an  indispensable  adjunct  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  great  herds  of  the  country.  These  Indians 
were  Christians,  docile  even  to  servility,  and  the  best  of 
laborers.  Then  came  the  Americans,  followed  soon  there- 
after by  the  discovery  of  and  wild  rush  for  gold,  and  the  relaxa- 
tion for  the  time  of  a  health}  administration  of  the  laws,  and 
the  ruin  of  those  once  happy  and  useful  people  commenced. 
The  cultivators  of  vineyards  commenced  paying  their  Indian 
peons  with  aguardiente,  a  veritable  fire-water  and  no  mistake. 
The  consequence  was  that  on  being  paid  off  on  Saturday  even- 
ing, they  would  meet  in  great  gatherings  called  peons,  and 
pass  the  night  in  gambling,  drunkenness  and  debauchery. 
On  Sunday  the  streets  would  be  crowded  from  morn  till  night 
with  Indians,  males  and  females  of  all  ages,  from  the  girl  of 
ten  or  twelve,  to  the  old  man  $ind  woman  of  70  or  80. 

By  four  o'clock  on  Sunday  afternoon  Los  Angeles  street  from 
Commercial  to  Nigger  alley,  Aliso  street  from  Los  Angeles  to 
Alameda,  and  Nigger  alley,  would  be  crowded  with  a  mass  of 
drunken  Indians,  yelling  and  fighting.  Men  and  women,  boys 
and  girls,  tooth  and  toe  nail,  sometimes,  and  frequently  with 
knives,  but  always  in  a  manner  that  would  strike  the  beholder 
with  awe  and  horror. 

About  sundown  the  pompous  marshal,  with  his  Indian 
special  deputies,  who  had  been  kept  in  jail  all  day  to  keep  them 
sober,  would  drive  and  drag  the  herd  to  a  big  corral  in  the  rear 
of  Downey  Block,  where  they  would  sleep  away  their  intoxica- 
tion, and  in  the  morning  they  would  be  exposed  for  sale,  as 
slaves  for  the  week.  Los  Angeles  had  its  slave  mart,  as  well 
as  New  Orleans  and  Constantinople — only  the  slave  at  Los 
Angeles  was  sold  fifty-two  times  a  year  as  long  as  he  lived, 
which  did  not  generally  exceed  one,  two,  or  three  years,  under 
the  new  dispensation.  They  would  be  sold  for  a  week,  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  49 

bought  up  by  the  vineyard  men  and  others  at  prices  ranging 
from  one  to  three  dollars,  one-third  of  which  was  to  be  paid  to 
the  peon  at  the  end  of  the  week,  which  debt,  due  for  well  per- 
formed labor,  would  invariably  be  paid  in  "  aguardiente,"  and 
the  Indian  would  be  made  happy  until  the  following  Monday 
morning,  having  passed  through  another  Saturday  night  and 
Sunday's  saturnalia  of  debauchery  and  bestiality.  Those 
thousands  of  honest,  useful  people  were  absolutely  destroyed  in 
this  way.  Vineyards  were  of  great  profit  in  those  days,  and 
would  be  to-day,  if  we  could  recall  the  times  as  they  were  be- 
fore the  conquering  Sas!on  came  with  his  boasted  perfection  of 
laws,  and  his  much-vaunted  "  advance  civilization." 

Surely,  we  civilized  the  race  of  Mission  Indians  with  a  refine- 
ment known  to  no  other  people  under  the  sun. 

• 

The  poor  Indians  are  all  gone,  the  crumbling  walls  of  the 
old  Missions  and  the  decaying  trunks  of  the  vineyards,  no 
longer  profitable  when  cultivated  with  honestly  compensated 
labor,  stand  silent  witnesses  of  the  time  long  gone  by,  when 
the  Indian,  though  compelled  to  labor,  was  happy  and  content 
in  viewing  the  groaning  granaries  that  assured  him  and  his  an 
ample  support. 


50  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  III. 

More  Lynching — Disgraceful  Proceedings — Smith  and  a  Mexican  are 
Whipped  on  the  Plaza — Tossing  a  Man  in  a  Blanket — A  Broken  Neck — 
Even  Change— Thompson  Burrill  and  Dona  Concha.— A.  Man  Gets 
Married- -The  Jlairless  Dog — Jack  Powers  and  His  Great  Influence — 
He  defies  the  Law — Emigrates  to  Sonora  and  is  Murdered — Alas !  Poor 
Jack — Los  Angeles  the  Hot-bed  of  Revolution — Castro's  Pronuncia- 
mento — Micheltorena — Gringo  Versus  Gringo,  and  the  Great  Three 
Days  Battle  of  Providencia — Blood,  "God  and  Liberty" — Bandini's 
Revolution — The  Founding  of  Los  Angeles — Navarro's  Dream. 


SHORT  time  after  the  hanging  of  Reyes  Feliz,  San- 
doval  and  the  others  heretofore  mentioned,  Smith  was 
arrested  at  San  Gabriel,  summarily  tried  by  a  hastily 
constituted  lynch  court  and  sentenced  to  be  hung  instanter. 
He  was  accordingly  mounted  on  a  Mexican  cart,  which  was 
promptly  driven  under  one  of  the  many  great  oaks  there 
abounding,  a  rope  was  adjusted  to  his  neck,  fastened  to  one 
of  the  branches  above,  and  the  goad  was  about  to  be  applied 
to  the  innocent  oxen  that  were  attached  to  the  cart,  when  old 
Taylor,  from  the  Monte,  put  in  an  appearance  and  interposed  in 
behalf  of  Smith. 

Taylor's  influence  prevailed,  and  Smith  was  turned  over  to 
Constable  Frank  Baker,  I  believe,  who  brought  him  to  town, 
and  he  was  duly  lodged  in  jail.  The  city  lynch  court  there- 
upon held  a  meeting,  which  was  addressed  by  a  burly  looking 
individual,  who  was  quite  emphatic,  even  to  eloquence,  in  his 
denunciations  ot  the  manner  in  which  the  law  was  adminis- 
tered ;  the  great  expense  that  would  accrue  to  the  county  in 
the  sham  prosecution  of  felons,  the  over-taxed  people,  and  all 
that  sort  of  stuff.  The  Speaker  himself  was  a  non-taxpayer, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  51 

and  those  who  most  emphatically  agreed  with  him  being  of  the 
same  class.  It  was  finally  moved  and  carried  that  Smith 
should  be  disposed  of  in  an  economical  way,  that  is,  he  should 
be  at  once  taken  out  of  jail,  given  a  fair  trial,  and,  if  found 
guilty,  hung;  if  innocent,  turned  loose.  No  sooner  said  than 
acted  upon.  The  eloquent  and  emphatic  speaker  aforesaid 
constituted  himself  leader  of  the  mob  and  started  for  the  jail, 
followed  by  the  ragtag  and  bobtail  of  the  gambling  fraternity. 
The  old  adobe  house  of  Dr.  Bush,  situated  on  the  hill  in  the 
rear  of  the  Lafayette  Hotel,  was  then  used  as  a  jail,  and 
George  Whitehorn  was  jailer.  There  was  a  big  pine  log 
extending  from  end  to  end  of  the  long  room  in  the  said  house, 
with  staples  driven  into  it  at  intervals  of  three  or  four  feet,  to 
which  were  chained  the  prisoners,  whose  feet  were  shackled 
with  cross  chains,  with  a  center  chain  about  a  foot  long 
fastened  to  the  staple  and  pine  log  aforesaid,  so  that  the  only 
chance  of  escape  would  have  been  for  the  prisoners  to  walk  off 
with  the  log,  and  it  was  a  great  wonder  they  didn't  do  it, 
because  they  were  strung  out  on  that  log  like  a  string  of  fresh 
fish.  That  was  a  gay  old  pioneer  jail.  George  made  some 
show  of  resistance,  but  was  soon  overpowered,  the  keys  taken 
away  from  him.  the  door  opened,  the  staple  drawn  out  of  the 
pine  log  and  Smith  was  marched  down  town  and  placed  under 
guard  in  the  little  adobe  house  before  referred  to.  A  com- 
mittee was  at  once  appointed  to  take  testimony,  and  by  this 
time  night  had  set  in.  They  proved  nothing  whatever  against 
Smith,  although  he  said  in  old  times  in  Sacramento,  in  1850, 
when  the  great  horse  market  was  in  full  blast  at  the  corner  of 
Sixth  and  K  streets,  he  used  to  go  out  and  drive  in  immigrant 
stock  to  be  sold  at  auction,  "but  then,"  he  said,  "everybody 
did  the  same,  you  know." 

At  two  o'clock  on  the  following  day  the  committee  announced 
themselves  as  ready  to  report,  and  the  herald  with  the  dinner 
bell  went  round  proclaiming  that  there  was  to  be  a  meeting  of 
the  people  at  the  Court  House. 


52  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

By  four  o'clock  the  crowd  had  assembled,  the  court  was 
organized,  and  the  evidence  against  Smith  was  formally  read. 

Then  said  the  President :  "  Gentlemen,  what  is  your  pleas- 
ure?" A  fellow  elevated  himself  and  said  :  "  I  move  that 
Smith  be  taken  to  the  Plaza  and  given  fifty  lashes  on  the  bare 
back  and  then  turned  loose." 

The  proposition  was  voted  down  and  Smith  complacently 
smiled. 

Charley  Norris  then  moved  that  Smith  be  given  eighty-five 
lashes  on  the  bare  back  and  be  turned  over  to  the  United  States 
officers  at  Jurupa  as  a  deserter.  Unanimously  carried. 

About  this  time  a  gambler  came  in  from  Nigger  Alley 
having  in  custody  a  Mexican  who  had  severely  cut  a  pie  vendor 
with  a  knife,  because  the  boy  had  refused  him  credit.  The 
court  proposed  hanging  him  forthwith  when  a  chivalrously  in- 
clined gambler  suggested  that  fifty  lashes  would  be  a  sufficient 
punishment.  So  the  court  voted  him  eighty-five,  and  took  up 
its  line  of  march  to  Aleck  Gibson's,  on  the  plaza.  An  Indian 
then  put  in  an  appearance  with  an  armfull  of  stout  willow 
switches,  and  the  gentlemen  were  invited  to  shed  their  linen. 
Then  the  Mexican  culprit  dramatically  came  to  the  front  and 
begged  the  privilege  of  being  whipped  first,  saying  that  he  was 
a  man  of  honor,  was  no  thief,  had  only  used  his  knife  when 
insulted,  and  he  thought  he  was  entitled  to  that  much  consid- 
eration. The  gentlemen  appointed  to  carry  into  execution 
the  sentence  of  the  court  graciously  granted  the  request,  and 
the  hidalgo,  stripped,  was  tied  up  to  a  wooden  column  in  front 
of  the  house  and  the  Indian  stepped  forward  with  an  air  of 
intense  satisfaction  and  gave  the  "  Jente  de  razon "  a  most 
unmerciful  whipping,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  assembled 
patriots.  The  Mexican  bore  the  punishment  with  the  most 
stoical  fortitude.  He  then  quietly  resumed  his  rayment, 
"smiled,"  that  is,  he  took  a  drink  furnished  gratuitously,  and 
remarked  : 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  53 

"  Now  I  will  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  this  d — d  gringo 
whipped." 

Smith,  whose  time  had  now  arrived,  came  forward  with  his 
shackles  and  chains  still  on  and  said,  "Gentlemen,  I  am  an 
American;  and  it  is  disgrace  enough  to  be  publicly  whipped, 
but  surely  you  will  not  have  a  gentleman  whipped  by  an 
Injun.  If  there  is  an  American  present  who  will  be  kind 
enough  to  come  forward  and  lay  them  on,  I  give  my  word 
of  honor  not  to  bear  him  any  ill-will  but  promise  to  be  always 

grateful  for  the  favor." 
0 

The  gamblers  present  accordingly  made  up  a  purse  of  $16 

and  offered  it  to  any  white  man  who  would  administer  the  cas- 
tigation.  A  young  man  who  had  just  got  in  from  across  the 
plains  and  had  evidently  heard  of  the  ounce  per  day  to  be  earned 
in  this  laud  of  gold,  and  this  being  his  first  chance  to  earn  an 
ounce  stepped  forward,  accepted  the  gold  and  vigorously  laid 
on  the  willows,  to  the  evident  satisfaction  of  all  concerned  save 
Smith,  who  begged  to  be  permitted  to  take  an  occasional  pull 
at  his  flask,  which,  thanks  to  the  generosity  of  old  Hodges,  had 
been  well  filled  with  brandy  and  gunpowder.  In  the  mean- 
time some  gamblers  who  felt  a  disgust  at  the  white  man  who 
would  do  such  a  service  for  money,  prepared  themselves  with  a 
strong  Mexican  blanket,  and,  seizing  the  whipper,  they  com- 
menced tossing  him  up  a  la  Sancho  Panza.  Every  toss  he 
went  higher  and  higher,  until  he  came  down  so  hard  that  he 
broke  his  neck,  as  was  at  the  time  believed. 

Some  charitably  disposed  persons  took  the  poor  fellow,  it 
then  being  night,  down  to  Downey  &  McFarland's  drug  store, 
at  the  corner  of  Los  Angeles  and  Commercial  streets,  and  Mac 
went  to  work  and  straightened  up  and  bandaged  his  neck.  He 
was  permitted  to  sleep  on  the  floor  of  the  drug  store  until 
morning.  Mac  slept  in  the  back  room.  In  the  morning  he 
got  up  with  a  very  stiff  neck,  and  after  looking  around  he 
ventured  to  inquire  the  amount  of  his  indebtedness.  Mac, 


54  REMINISCENCES   OB'    A    RANGER. 

who  was  ignorant  of  the  extent  of  his  resources,  informed  him 
that  the  charge  was  "one  ounce,"  $16.  After  fumbling 
around  his  pockets  he  unearthed  his  well-earned  money  and 
handed  it  over,  remarking,  "even  change,"  and  demurely  took 
his  departure.  This  was  a  most  disgraceful  affair,  and  I 
believe  the  foremost  of  the  lynchers  felt  ashamed  of  it.  So 
crestfallen  did  they  look  at  what  promised  to  be  an  interesting 
hanging  that  old  Dimmick,  the  prosecuting  attorney,  took  cour- 
age and  threatened  to  have  the  leaders  indicted  for  stealing  the 
irons  out  of  the  jail. 

It  afterwards  turned  out  that  Smith,  who  had  been  turned 
loose  with  the  public  property  hanging  to  his  legs,  fouud  his 
way  to  an  up-town  blacksmith  shop,  and  sold  them  to  the 
smith,  who  relieved  him  of  his  custodianship  of  the  county's 
property.  The  failure  to  get  up  a  first-class  lynching  cast  a 
gloom  over  the  city,  from  which  it  did  not  recover  for  near  a 
month,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  they  started  in  one 
Sunday  morning,  two  men  being  assassinated  and  three  hung 
before  the  bull-fighting  commenced  in  the  afternoon. 

One  of  the  assassinations  I  remember  to  have  been  in  this 
wise :  Two  Hidalgos  were  walking  arm-in-arm,  down  Main 
street,  engaged  in  the  most  friendly  converse,  when  one  acci- 
dentally offended  the  other.  The  latter  drew  his  knife,  and, 
without  giving  his  victim  the  least  warning,  gave  him  a  rear 
thrust  to  the  heart.  This  happened  about  9  o'clock  A.  M. 
Judge  lynch  was  at  the  time  holding  his  court  at  the  usual 
place,  engaged  in  the  trial  of  two  others,  and  the  aforesaid 
assassin  was  at  once  arrested,  tried,  sentenced  and  hung  before 
the  body  of  his  murdered  victim  was  yet  cold.  He  made  a 
very  interesting  speech,  thanked  his  executioners  for  their 
kindness,  said  it  was  all  right,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it. 

Those  were  fast  times,  let  me  assure  the  reader — whom  I 
have  most  certainly  worried  by  this  time.  But  the  fact  is  the 
object  of  this  story  being  to  show  how  the  Angels  amused 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  55 

themselves  in  those  happy  days,  and  let  the  subject  be  pleasing 
or  the  reverse,  it  must,  forsooth,  be  told. 

The  last  gala  day  referred  to,  I  believe,  happened  about  the 
latter  part  of  December,  1852,  and  was  followed  by  a  man 
getting  married.  "  Nothing  strange  in  a  man's  getting  mar- 
ried," the  reader  will  say ;  but  there  the  reader  is  mistaken, 
and  I  will  proceed  to  explain  : 

George  Thompson  Burrill,  the  "over  punctilious  . man," 
so-called  by  our  lamented  local  historian,  came  to  Los  Angeles 
from  Chihuahua,  accompanied  by  a  full-breasted,  square- 
rigged,  fast-sailing  sort  of  craft,  if  the  reader  will  permit  a 
nautical  expression,  called  Dona  Concha. 

The  over  punctilious  judge  was  a  man  of  great  gravity  ;  tall, 
lean  and  dignified,  clean-shaved  face,  except  the  upper  lip, 
which  carried  a  moustache  which  would  have  made  a  graceful 
pendant  for  a  Pasha's  banner.  The  Judge  also  brought  with 
him  one  of  those  abominable,  sleek,  hairless  dogs,  that,  in  lieu 
of  children,  received  the  united  affection  of  the  dignified  Judge 
and  the  frail  Concha.  The  Judge  was  very  fond  of  Dona  Con- 
cha, as  he  was  also  fond  of  the  dog.  The  frail  Concha  divided 
her  affections  between  the  Judge,  the  dog,  and  Henry  Lewis, 
Gabe  Allen's  partner  in  the  old  Star  Hotel  that  stood  where 
now  stands  the  Lanfranco  block.  Like  all  true  lovers,  the 
Judge  was  blinded  by  his  affection,  and  to  gain  a  little  relaxa- 
tion from  the  cares  of  public  office,  left  the  frail  Concha  in 
charge  of  his  domestic  world,  and  the  hairless  dog,  and  betook 
him  to  San  Pedro  to  sniff  the  breeze  fresh  from  the  briny  bil- 
lows. Very  soon  after  the  Judge's  departure,  Dona  Concha, 
arrayed  in  the  very  extreme  of  Chihuahua  fashion,  made  an 
assignation  with  the  connubial  Lewis  at  the  Parochial  Church, 
and  Father  Anacleto  promptly  united  the  devoted  lovers  in  the 
holy  bonds  of  matrimony.  Somehow  or  other  Nigger  Alley  got 
wind  of  what  was  going  on,  and  Nigger  Alley  was  not  on  the 
marry.  Nigger  Alley  didn't  believe  in  such  nonsense,  and 


55  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER. 

when  the  happy  couple  emerged  from  the  sacred  precincts,  they 
were  confronted  with  the  outraged  denizens  of  Nigger  Alley, 
fully  bent  on  mischief.  The  frail  fair  one  escaped  the  fury  of 
this  anti-nuptial  mob  and  took  refuge  in  the  church.  Henry 
succeeded  for  a  time  in  eluding  the  grasp  of  the  outraged 
Democracy  and  in  reaching,  and  almost  getting  through  Nigger 
Alley,  having  been  unfortunately  headed  off  from  Main  street. 
One  division  of  the  mob  followed  in  hot  pursuit,  while  the 
other  flanked  around  and  cut  off  the  possibility  of  egress  from 
the  narrow  street.  Henry,  driven  to  the  wall,  took  refuge  in 
Tao's  gambling  house,  on  the  old  Coronel  corner,  and  attempted 
to  barricade  himself  therein ;  failing  in  which  he  surrendered  at 
discretion  and  offered  to  stand  the  liquor  for  the  whole  crowd, 
which  only  tended  to  further  infuriate  the  outraged  decency  of 
the  classic  quarter,  and  they  let  into  poor  Henry  with  eggs, 
rotten  apples,  and  every  conceivable  offensive  missile.  In  the 
meantime  tar  and  feathers  were  called  for,  but  by  some  fortu- 
nate circumstance  the  poor  fellow  was  enabled  to  escape  through 
the  back  door  and  over  walls  to  Main  street,  and  thence  to  the 
strongholds  of  his  own  castle. 

The  population,  that  is  to  say  the  Nigger  Alley  portion  of 
it,  felt  itself  disgraced.  The  idea  of  one  of  them,  and  Henry 
was  one  of  them,  marrying,  was  an  absurdity,  an  insult  not  to 
be  tolerated.  The  Star  Hotel  was  ruined,  and  to  save  its 
credit,  Henry  was  forced  to  withdraw  from  the  co-partnership. 

The  Los  Angeles  world  was  on  the  qui  vive  to  know  the 
result  when  the  Judge  returned,  anticipating  blood,  murder 
and  dire  vengeance.  In  due  time  the  Judge  did  return,  and 
old  S — tt  appointed  himself  a  committee  of  one  to  break  the 
doleful  news  to  the  unfortunate  man.  The  stage  drove  up  to 
the  Bella  Union,  and  S — tt  saluted  the  Judge,  and  inviting 
him  to  smile  at  the  bar,  took  him  delicately  to  one  side  and 
said : 

"  Thompson,  did  you  hear  the  news  ?" 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  57 

"What  news?"  said  the  Judge. 

"It  is  so  dreadful  I  am  afraid  to  tell  it,"  said  S — tt. 

"Does  it  concern  me?  Has  any  one  sued  me?"  said  the 
Judge. 

"  Worse  than  that,"  said  old  S— tt. 

"  Out  with  it,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Well,  then,  if  I  must  I  must,"  said  old  S— tt.  "Well, 
then,  this  is  what  is  the  matter;  the  whole  town  has  been  in  an 
uproar.  While  you  were  absent,  Dona  Concha  ran  away  from 
your  house  and  married  Henry  Lewis." 

"Did  she  take  that  little  dog?"  gravely  inquired  the  Judge, 
while  quietly  sipping  his  cock-tail. 

"  What  dog  ?"  said  S— tt. 

"Why,  little  Santa  Ana,"  replied  the  Judge.  " To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  had  evil  forebodings  concerning  him,  and  I  must 
go  and  see  about  the  dear  little  fellow.  Adios!"  and  the  man 
of  punctilio  was  gone,  and  so  is  the  story. 

The  most  noted  character,  probably,  in  all  California  at  the 
time  referred  to,  '51,  '52  and  '53,  and  especially  in  the  Southern 
counties,  was  Jack  Powers.  Jack  was  an  Irishman  by  birth, 
and  came  to  California  with  Stephenson's  New  York  Volun- 
teers. When  I  arrived  in  Los  Angeles  Jack  was  here,  although 
he  properly  resided  in  Santa  Barbara.  Jack  was  a  great  gam- 
bler and  when  he  walked  through  a  crowd  of  gamblers  it  was 
with  the  air  of  a  lion  walking  among  rats.  Gifted  with  mental 
qualities  of  the  highest  order,  with  the  manners  of  the  true 
gentleman,  with  a  form  and  face  physically  perfect,  with  a 
boldness  and  dash  that  made  him  a  leader  among  men,  Jack 
Powers,  under  favorable  circumstances  might  have  attained  to 
the  most  honorable  distinction ;  as  it  was,  he  wielded  a  great 
influence  not  only  among  the  gambling  fraternity  and  the 
Spanish  population,  over  whom  he  lorded  it,  but  he  made  his 
influence  felt  at  the  State  Capital,  where  he  was  held  in  high 
esteem  by  a  succession  of  Governors,  having  been  on  the  warmest 


58  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

terms  of  friendship  with  Governors  McDougall  and  Bigler. 
At  San  Francisco  Jack  was  the  acknowledged  peer  of  the  most 
prominent,  and  had  he  aspired  to  political  preferment,  he  could 
have  chosen  between  a  seat  in  the  National  Congress  and  the 
helm  of  State. 

Jack  was  a  power  in  this  land.  In  Los  Angeles  Jack  ruled 
the  gamblers.  In  Los  Angeles  the  gamblers,  to  the  number  of 
about  four  hundred,  absolutely  ruled  the  roost  for  a  succession 
of  years.  Jack  was  not  a  politician  however.  Jack  was  a  first 
class  sport,  owned  his  own  ranch,  kept  hounds,  fast  horses  and 
a  large  number  of  retainers,  and  was  a  lord  in  the  land.  Jack 
wielded  such  a  power  that  at  one  time  he  maintained  an  army 
of  followers  at  his  own  expense,  and  boldly  defied  the  authori- 
ties. As  before  stated,  Jack  owned  a  ranch,  which,  like  all 
other  ranches  at  the  time,  was  swamped  in  litigation.  The 
Sheriff  held  a  writ  of  ejectment  against  Jack  which  was  resisted; 
an  attempt  was  made  to  arrest  him  in  Santa  Barbara;  his  friends 
rallied  to  his  support  and  the  attempt  failed.  Jack  and  his 
friends  then  seized  the  only  piece  of  artillery  in  the  town  and 
took  up  their  line  of  march  to  Jack's  ranch,  some  miles  distant. 
W.  "W.  Twist,  the  Sheriff,  also  one  of  Stephenson's  Volunteers, 
summoned  the  power  of  the  county,  attacked  Jack,  and  attempt- 
ed to  take  the  gun  away  from  him.  The  Sheriff  was  defeated, 
some  two  or  three  persons  being  killed  and  others  wounded. 
Jack  safely  reached  his  ranch,  provisioned  and  fortified  it  for  a 
siege.  He  had  one  sure  enough  cannon;  he  took  the  stove-pipe 
from  his  kitchen,  mounted  it,  cut  embrasures  through  the  thick 
walls  of  his  house,  made  many  Quaker  demonstrations,  and, 
although  besieged  for  days  by  the  foiled  Sheriff,  he  successfully 
defied  the  laws,  and  the  Sheriff  was  forced  to  raise  the  siege. 
This  occurred  in  January,  1853 — and  for  a  long  time  thereafter 
when  Jack  would  visit  the  capital  of  the  county,  he  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  troop  of  retainers  that  assured  his  freedom  from 
arrest. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  59 

Nordhoff  refers  to  an  interview  and  conversation  between 
himself  and  Ned  Beale  in  regard  to  Jack  Powers  as  one  of  the 
robbers  of  early  times,  and  although  Jack  was  the  lord  and 
head  of  all  the  bad  characters  in  the  southern  counties,  the 
writer  who  knew  him  well,  has  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  he 
believes  Jack  Powers  to  have  been  as  incapable  of  personally 
committing  a  robbery  as  either  of  the  gentlemen  referred  to  as 
discussing  his  character.  Jack,  however,  outlived  his  influence; 
or,  better  say.  he  outlived  his  followers.  In  1856,  when  the 
blood-hounds  of  the  San  Francisco  Vigilance  Committee  pur- 
sued Ned  McGowan  to  Santa  Barbara,  Ned  was  only  saved 
through  the  influence  and  shrewdness  of  Jack,  who  necessarily 
fell  under  the  baneful  influence  of  the  great  Vigilance  Commit- 
tee. In  1857  Jack  stood  almost  alone  ;  his  followers  had  fallen 
off;  the  influence  of  the  gamblers  had  gone.  Standing  in  fear 
of  the  law,  that  in  the  zenith  of  his  glory  he  had  defied,  he 
concluded  to  fly  the  country  he  could  no  longer  rule.  He 
accordingly  emigrated  to  Sonora  where  those  gentle  and  prac- 
tical people,  who  so  summarily  disposed  of  poor  Crabbe  and  his 
followers,  converted  Jack  to  the  most  profitable  possible  use  as 
they  thought,  that  is  to  say,  they  chopped  him  up  and  fed  him  to 
their  pigs !  Alas,  poor  Jack  !  He  was  full  of  a  noble  gene- 
rosity, and  deserving  of  a  better  fate. 

A  great  many  sensational  scribblers  have  tried  to  hold  Jack 
up  as  an  out-and-out  highwayman ;  others  have  maintained 
that  he  was  the  veritable  Joaquin  Murieta  ;  but  neither  is  cor- 
rect. He  was,  as  I  have  described  him,  a  man  born  to  be 
prominent  in  that  sphere  of  life  to  which  fate  may  have 
assigned  him. 

The  venerable  scribe  who  writes  ancient  history  for  us  says  : 

"  In  February,  1845,  a  bloodless  battle,  of  three  days'  con- 
tinuance, was  fought  between  Governor  Micheltorena,  at  the 
head  of  the  troops  which  accompanied  him  to  California  from 


60  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

Mexico,  and  General  Jost  Castro,  at  the  head  of  citizens  and 
residents  of  the  Southern  part  of  California." 

Although  this  military  chronicler  was  too  young,  and  too 
far  removed  from  the  battlefield  referred  to,  and  personally 
knew'  nothing  about  that  grand,  historical  event,  the  truth  of 
history  demands  that  he  should  take  issue  with  the  old  gentle- 
man who  gave  to  the  world  the  above  scrap  of  history,  and 
maintain  on  the  best  of  hearsay  evidence  that  it  was  not  a 
bloodless  battle,  but  on  that  memorable  occasion  the  virgin  soil 
of  San  Fernando  was  moistened  with  the  blood  of  slaughtered 
innocence.  This  is  the  way  this  most  veracious  writer  came  to 
know  something  about  the  great  battle  of  Providencia,  fought 
on  the  Providencia  Ranch,  some  ten  or  eleven  miles  up  the 
Los  Angeles  river. 

Some  few  weeks  after  my  arrival  at  the  Angels,  an  enthusi- 
astic citizen  said  to  me  : 

"Los  Angeles  has  a  history,  sir.  It  always  was  an  important 
place,  sir." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  I  replied,  "  that  Los  Angeles  is  making  a 
history  very  fast." 

"Los  Angeles  for  half  a  century,  sir,  has  been  the  hot-bed 
of  revolution,  sir,"  said  the  citizen. 

The  writer  then  inquired  of  a  very  honorable  kinsman,  who 
had  dwelt  many  years  in  the  hot-bed,  to  see  what  information 
he  could  elicit  on  the  question  of  revolution,  and  lo !  I  struck 
a  perfect  historical  bonanza.  First  of  all,  he  told  of  the  great 
revolution  against  Micheltorena,  in  which  he  had  individually 
participated. 

To  commence,  then :  Castro  pronounced.  That  is  to  say, 
he  called  the  Governor  hard  names ;  called  his  chivalrous  fol- 
lowers vagabonds  and  cholos,  and  then  wound  up  with  a  grand 
flourish  about  "Independence,  God  and  Liberty,"  and  the 
revolution  was  on  its  legs. 

The  Governor  held  his  court  at  Monterey,  and  when  informed 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  61 

of  Castro's  pronunciamento,  took  immediate  steps  to  squelch 
the  rebellion.  He  at  once  mobilized  his  regulars  and  called  on 
old  John  Sutter,  who  responded  with  a  force  of  drilled  and 
disciplined  Indians.  He  also  organized  a  Gringo  contingent, 
composed  of  the  American  settlers  in  the  Sacramento  Valley, 
in  and  around  San  Jose,  San  Francisco  and  Monterey — mostly 
the  same  men  who,  a  short  time  thereafter,  raised  the  "  Bear 
Flag  "  and  defied  all  Mexico.  With  this  respectable  following 
the  valiant  Governor  buckled  on  his  armor,  mounted  his  little 
prancing  mustang  and  marched  in  hot  haste  to  subjugate  the 
rebellious  angels. 

In  the  meantime,  Castro  was  alive  to  the  immense  respon- 
sibility he  had  assumed — the  responsibility  of  rebelling  against 
the  most  enlightened  and  most  powerful  nation  under  the  sun. 
He  sounded  the  clarion  note  of  war;  he  floated  his  banner  to 
the  breeze;  he  marshaled  around  him  an  angelic  host  who  swore 
to  carry  that  banner  on  to  victory,  if  they  had  to  ride  through 
blood  to  their  bridle-bits.    'He  also  mustered  to  his  support  the 
Gringo  element  of  the  southern  counties,  and  when  the  news 
was  brought  in  that  the  invading  army  had  broken  camp  at 
San  Fernando,  the  great  hero  of  the  revolution  marshaled  his 
chivalric  followers  and  marched  forth  to  meet  the  tyrant  and 
conquer,  even  if  forced  to  sacrifice  the  last  Gringo  in. his  army. 
To  the  American  reader  who  is  unfamiliar  with  the  Spanish 
language,  it  is  about  time  to  explain  the  meaning  of  the  term 
Gringo.    "  Gringo,"  in  its  literal  signification,  means  ignoramus. 
For  instance:  An  American  who  had  not  yet  learned  to  eat  Chili 
peppers  stewed   in   grease,  throw  the  lasso,  contemplate   the 
beauties  of  nature  from  the  sunny  side  of  an  adobe  wall,  make 
a  first-class  cigar  out  of  a  corn  husk,  wear  open-legged  panta- 
loons, with  bell  buttons,  dance  on  one  leg,  and  live  on  one  meal 
a  week.     Now  the  reader  knows  what  a  terrible  thing  it  was  in 
early  days  to  be  a  Gringo. 

This  meek  and  humble  historian  has  felt  all  the  mortification, 


62  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

humiliation  and  disgrace  of  being  a  Gringo.  If  the  reader  has 
been  so  spared,  then  the  writer  congratulates  him — because  it 
is  an  awful  calamity  to  be  a  Gringo. 

Castro  put  his  Gringos  on  the  skirmish  line.  Micheltorena 
not  to  be  outdone  in  patriotic  sacrifice  and  first-class  general- 
ship, put  his  Gringos  on  the  skirmish  line,  and  but  for  a  for- 
tuitous circumstance  it  would  have  been  Gringo  meet  Gringo, 
and  the  tug  of  war.  The  armies  had  commenced  strategic 
movements;  the  skirmish  lines  had  advanced  and  the  ball  was 
about  to  open,  when  a  voice  spake  from  the  skirmish  line  of 
the  Governor;  both  Jines  advanced  under  cover  of  the  trees  and 
underbrush  that  abounded  on  the  battlefield.  The  voice  spake 
as  follows:  "Hello,  Read,  is  that  you?" 

"  Why,  yes,  McKinley,  is  that  you?  "  Then  another  voice  : 
"  Well,  by  Jove,  here's  Laughlin,  and  there's  Graham  !  What, 
Bell,  are  you  here,  too?"  and  so  the  two  skirmish  lines  met 
and  recognized  in  each  other  old  friends — fellow  countrymen  in 
a  foreign  land  about  to  murder  each  other,  all  for  God,  Liberty 
and  the  Constitution.  Then  said  one  of  Castro's  Gringos  to 
one  of  the  Governor's  Gringos,  all  having  shook  hands  and  sat 
down  to  see  what  the  difference  between  them  really  was, 
"  What  in  the  name  of  the  great  grizzly  brought  you  here  to 
fight  us?  " 

Said  the  Governor's  Gringos  :  "  We  are  fighting  for  the 
Constitution.  Why  are  you  arrayed  against  the  Government?" 

Then  said  Castro's  Gringos,  all  at  once  :  "  We  don't  care  a 
d — n  for  the  Government,  or  for  Castro  either  ;  but  we  know 
that  if  Micheltorena  enters  Los  Angeles  we,  the  foreigners,  will 
have  to  pay  the  fiddler  in  the  way  of  sacked  stores  and  forced 
loans.  And  now  you  see  what  we  are  fighting  for." 

"  They  are  right,"  said  all  of  the  Governor's  Gringos.  So 
the  result  was  the  two  skirmish  lines  concluded  to  withdraw 
from  the  conflict  and  let  the  descendants  of  the  glorious  con- 
quistadores  fight  it  out  in  their  own  way,  and  that  the  united 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  63 

Gringos  would  see  that,  whichever  army  prevailed,  no  stores 
should  be  sacked,  or  that  no  forced  loans  should  be  levied  on  any 
foreign  resident  of  Los  Angeles.  This  unlooked  for  union  gave 
to  the  contending  factions  a  different  complexion,  and  these 
united  Gringos  withdrew  to  a  sylvan  retreat  on  the  banks  of 
the  river,  and  the  commissary  mule  of  the  Los  Angeles  Grin- 
gos, well  packed,  among  other  good  things,  with  a  good  supply 
of  Wolfskill's  best  wine,  was  brought  up,  and  the  two  skirmish 
lines  resolved  themselves  into  an  old-fashioned  picnic  and 
patiently  awaited  the  results  of  the  day.  Little  was  done  on 
that  day.  The  next  morning,  however,  the  battle  began  in  regu- 
lar Mexican  style.  Castro  opened  with  artillery;  the  Governor 
replied  with  his  heaviest  metal.  The  battle  raged  with  terrific 
fury  for  two  full  days,  until  finally  blood  was  spilled,  honor  was 
satisfied,  God  and  Liberty  had  vindicated  itself.  The  Consti- 
tution was  safe.  Manuel  Micheltorena,  General  of  Brigade, 
and  Governor  of  Alta  California,  lost  a  mule  killed  in  that 
terrific  three  days'  conflict,  and  what  more  could  be  expected  ? 
He  did  his  duty  like  the  brave  General  that  he  was.  The  best 
blood  of  Mexico  had  appease*  the  wrath  of  the  rebellion,  (cer- 
tainly the  best  blood  shed  in  that  battle) ;  the  Governor  agreed 
to  withdraw  from  the  country  and  the  revolution  was  a  grand 
success. 

Another  grand  flourish  of  trumpets,  an  invocation  to  God 
and  Liberty,  and  Don  Pio  donned  the  official  toga,  and  became 
the  dispenser  of  unnumbered  leagues  of  the  grand  domain  of 
California.  Many  of  our  best  citizens  sigh  for  the  good  old 
times,  when  revolutions  were  cheap,  and  there  were  no  taxes  to 
pay ;  and  the  writer  respects  the  wisdom  of  the  philosophical 
Spaniard  when  he  vigorously  maintains  that  the  revolutions 
enjoyed  under  Mexican  rule,  were  far  preferable  to  the  high 
taxes  under  the  Gringo  Government. 

Here  comes  another  revolution  anterior  to  the  one  above 


64  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

related.  The  following  I  borrow  from  the  writings  of  Charles 
H.  Forbes,  Esq.: 

Bandini's  revolution  speaks  successfully  for  itself. 

In  the  year  1830  General  Manuel  Victoria  was  sent  from 
Mexico  to  relieve  General  Jose  Maria  Echandia.  who  was 
then  acting  as  Comandante  of  the  Oalifornias. 

In  the  year  1831,  owing  to  the  arbitrary  rule  of  Victoria,  a 
few  citizens  in  San  Diego,  viz.:  Don  Juan  Bandini,  Don  Pio 
Pico,  Don  Jose  Antonio  Carrillo,  Abel  Stearns  and  seven 
others,  matured  a  plan  to  overthrow  Victoria's  government, 
and  for  that  purpose  held  several  meetings.  At  their  assem- 
blage on  the  29th  of  November,  1831,  at  the  house  of  Bandini, 
they  armed  themselves,  and  in  the  evening  surprised  the  guard 
at  the  Presidio  (Fort)  of  San  Diego  and  took  possession 
thereof,  with  all  arms,  ammunition  and  cannons,  and  made  all 
the  soldiers  prisoners.  Don  Jose  Antonio  Carrillo,  with  five 
men,  was  left  in  charge  of  the  Presidio,  and  Bandini,  Pico, 
Stearns  and  the  four  others  went  to  the  residences  of  the  officers 
under  Victoria,  took  them  prisoners  and  brought  them  to  the 
house  of  Don  Pablo  de  la  Porting  who  was  then  Comandante 
of  the  Presidio  under  Victoria,  and  he  too  was  made  prisoner. 
All  being  together,  the  plan  was  read  to  them,  and  on  their 
promising  on  their  honor  not  to  oppose  the  Bandini  party,  they 
were  allowed  to  go  to  their  respective  houses.  On  the  1st  of 
December,  1831,  General  Echandia  was  asked  to  take  the  head 
of  the  little  party  against  Victoria,  which  he  accepted,  and 
spoke  at  some  length,  explaining  the  injustice  of  Victoria.  A 
salute,  was  fired  from  the  Presidio,  which  was  responded  to  by 
all  of  the  American  shipping  in  the  bay. 

On  the  2d  of  December,  1831,  Don  Pablo  de  la  Portilla  and 
all  the  other  officers  joined  the  little  party,  and  on  that  very 
day  Don  Pablo  was  sent  with  twenty-five  men,  well  armed  and 
equipped,  to  take  possession  of  the  Pueblo  de  ios  Angeles.  On 
the  5th  the  rest  of  the  party — Bandini,  Pico,  Stearns,  Echandia, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  65 

soldiers  and  citizens — left  San  Diego  to  join  Don  Pablo,  and  on 
the  following  day,  the  6th,  a  courier  met  them  with  a  letter 
from  Don  Pablo  stating  that  he  had  taken  possession  of  the 
Pueblo  de  Los  Angeles,  put  the  Alcalde,  Vicente  Sanchez,  in 
double  uons,  liberated  all  of  the  prisoners,  and  that  Victoria 
was  at  San  Fernando  with  forty  men.  On  the  5th  Don  Pablo 
de  la  Portilla  met  Victoria  near  the  pueblo;  and  when  in  hear- 
ing distance  Victoria  ordered  Don  Pablo  to  come  to  him,  to 
which  Don  Pablo  responded  by  ordering  Victoria  to  halt.  Vic 
toria,  enraged,  said,  "A  mi  no  se  manda  hacer  alto,"  "I am  not 
the  man  to  be  halted,"  and  gave  orders  to  his  men  to  charge 
and  fire.  Noticing  some  reluctance  on  the  part  of  his  men  he 
said  that  he  was  not  accustomed  to  fight  with  men  that  wore 
petticoats.  Whereupon  the  brave  Captain  Don  Romualdo 
Pacheco,  father  of  Ex-Governor  Pacheco,  answered  that  he  did 
not  wear  such  appendages,  and  drawing  his  sword  called  to  his 
men  to  follow  him.  Jose"  Maria  Abila  then  sallied  forth  from 
the  San  Diego  side  and,  with  a  small  derringer,  shot  and  killed 
Captain  Romualdo  Pacheco,  and  with  his  lance  wounded  Gen- 
eral Victoria,  throwing  him  oif  his  horse. 

One  of  Victoria's  soldiers  shot  Abila,  bringing  him  down, 
when  another  of  Victoria's  men  advanced  to  finish  Abila,  but 
before  he  got  to  him  Abila  drew  another  derringer  and  shot 
him,  bringing  him  down.  General  Victoria  then  finished  Abila 
with  his  sword. 

At  this  stage  of  the  battle  the  San  Diego  forces  retreated 
back  to  Los  Angeles,  and  on  arriving  there  disbanded,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  who  remained  with  Don  Jose  Antonio  Carillo 
at  the  "cuartel"  soldiers'  quarters.  Later  in  the  evening 
Victoria  arrived  and  halted  in  the  upper  portion  of  the  Pueblo. 
As  soon  as  Don  Jose  Antonio  Carrillo  knew  of  the  arrival  of 
Victoria,  he  in  person  commenced  to  beat  the  drum  as  if  calling 
the  soldiers  together.  On  hearing  the  beat  of  the  drum  Vic- 
toria decided  not  to  enter  the  Pueblo,  but  sent  a  communica- 
5 


66  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    BANGER. 

tion  to  Don  Pablo  de  la  Portilla,  stating  that  he  was  ready  to 
turn  over  the  "mando"  to  him.  And  here  ended  Victoria's 
government.  Don  Rotnualdo  Pacheco  was  buried  on  the  6th 
of  December,  in  the  Catholic  Cemetery,  and  Abila  on  the  7th. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  Bandini,  Pico,  Echandia,  and  the  rest  of 
the  party  from  San  Diego,  about  the  8th  or  9th,  Don  Pio  Pico 
was  proclaimed  Governor,  and  took  the  oath  of  office  in  the 
plaza,  in  front  of  the  old  church,  one  of  the  men  entering  the 
church  by  the  round  window  in  the  front  and  bringing  out  the 
crucifix  for  the  purpose. 

Don  Luis  Zamorano,  who  at  this  time  was  in  Monterey, 
upon  hearing  of  the  defeat  of  Victoria,  raised  a  party  against 
the  San  Diegans,  proclaimed  himself  ruler,  and  sent  down  to 
Los  Angeles  one  hundred  and  sixteen  men  under  the  command 
of  Lieutenant  Juan  Maria  Ybarra,  who  took  possession  of  the 
Pueblo  de  Los  Angeles. 

The  San  Diego  party  having  left  for  San  Diego  soon  after 
the  defeat  of  Victoria,  Ybarra  had  no  opposition,  but  upon 
hearing  of  Zamorano's  movements  they  were  not  idle.  They 
began  to  gather  up  their  forces,  and  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Barroso,  sent  about  fifty  men,  with  orders  to  sta- 
tion themselves  at  the  San  Gabriel  river,  at  the  place  called 
Paso  de  Bartolo,  and  await  re-inforcoments,  as  they  should  be 
sent  to  him. 

Bandini,  Pico -and  two  or  three  others  soon  followed,  and  as 
they  came  along  gathered  up  all  they  could,  sending  couriers  to 
the  mountains  to  get  the  Indians  to  join  them,  to  which  they 
responded,  gathering  in  great  numbers.  Before  the  arrival  of 
General  Echandia  the  forces  at  San  Gabriel  river  were  about 
1,300  or  1,400  strong.  Of  these  about  300  were  white  and 
about  1,100  were  Indians,  all  of  them  mounted  and  with  lances 
and  bows  and  arrows. 

On  the  day  previous  to  the  arrival  of  Echandia  from  San 
Diego,  a  communication  was  sent  to  Ybarra  by  Captain 


BEMINJSCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  67 

Barroso  to  the  effect  that  if  he  (Ybarra)  should  not  vacate 
the  Pueblo  de  Los  Angeles  by  nine  o'clock  next  morning  he 
should  be  obliged  to  do  it  by  force  of  arms.  Ybarra  heeded 
the  order,  and  left  that  very  night  for  the  north  to  report  to  his 
chief  at  Monterey.  Gen.  Echandia,  Bandini,  Pico  and  Cap- 
tain Barroso  entered  the  Pueblo  de  Los  Angeles  with  flying 
colors,  and  this  revolution  was  a  success. 

From  my  historical  bonanza  other  matters  were  extracted, 
the  most  important  pf  which  was  the  fact  of  Holy  inspiration 
being  the  cause  that  induced  the  founding  of  the  beautiful  city, 
subject  matter  of  the  following  story,  the  truth  of  which  is 
beyond  the  power  of  contradiction : 

Two  months  and  a  hundred  years  ago  three  Spanish 
Dragoons,  followed  by  an  Indian  leading  a  sumpter  mule, 
ascended  the  highest  hill  or  bluff  overlooking  the  present  site  of 
Los  Angeles,  and  the  Rio  Porciuncula,  now  called  Los  Angeles 
river.  Having  attained  the  rugged  summit,  the  three  soldiers 
dismounted,  and  at  the  order  of  Sergeant  Navarro,  the  elder, 
unsaddled  and  picketed  their  horses,  placed  their  lances  "  en  pa- 
ve lion,"  over  which  they  threw  their  blankets  and  thus  formed  a 
sort  of  tent.  The  sumpter  mule  having  been  relieved  of  its 
burden,  and  a  "bota"  of  vino  Catalan  having  been  taken  there- 
from, the  Sergeant  drew  from  the  pocket  of  his  doublet  a 
small  silver  cup,  filled  it,  and  quaffing  the  delicious  fluid  of 
Catalonia  passed  the  bota  and  cup  to  Corporal  Quintero  who,  in 
like  manner,  passed  the  canteen  and  cup  to  the  soldier,  Ban- 
negas,  who  having  followed  the  example  of  his  superiors,  the 
three  seated  themselves  on  their  "armas  de  pelo,"  cigarritos 
were  produced  and  the  Sergeant  with  his  mecha  struck  a  light, 
and  in  silence  they  smoked.  The  beauty  of  the  scenery  that 
surrounded  them  was  beyond  the  power  of  description.  Their 
faces  were  turned  toward  the  dark  and  craggy  mountains  that 
overhung  the  San  Gabriel  mission,  whose  white  walls  and  red 
roofs  could  be  seen  in  the  midst  of  the  sea  of  sylvan  green  that 


68  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

surrounded  it.  The  plains  and  rolling  hills  had  discarded  their 
mantle  of  green  and  donned  their  sere  robes  of  summer. 
Gazing  toward  the  sun,  which  had  now  marked  the  first 
segment  in  the  circle  of  its  journey,  plains,  hills,  forests,  lakes, 
rivers,  valleys,  and  towering  mountains  in  splendid  panorama 
met  their  wondering  vision.  To  the  rear  of  where  the  three 
warriors  sat  and  intermediate  to  the  line  that  marked  the  verge 
of  the  unknown  sea  in  crescent  shape  lay  in  silent  beauty  the 
shimmering  waters  of  a  beautiful  lake  sheltered  from  the  rude 
blasts  of  the  ocean  by  a  rampart  of  kind  and  protecting  hills. 
To  the  left  for  leagues  could  be  traced  the  serpentine  windings 
of  the  river,  as  it  swept  through  the  valley  toward  the  western 
horizon.  Obliquely  to  their  rear  and  looking  southward  to  the 
sea  the  waters  of  the  Porciuncula  swept  by  like  a  silver  stripe 
in  a  ribbon  of  green,  shaded  by  the  umbrageous  white-armed 
sycamore  and  the  more  verdant  cottonwood,  under  whose  pro- 
tecting shades  gamboled  countless  herds  of  deer  and  antelope, 
while  still  beyond  are  to  be  seen  rocky  islands  in  the  ocean 
posted  like  knights  in  armor  guarding  the  portals  of  Paradise. 

Having  in  silence  taken  in  this  vision  of  beauty,  Corporal 
Quintero  was  the  first  to  speak.  "Sergeant,"  said  he,  "my 
old  and  tried  friend,  at  first  I  greatly  marvelled  at  your  leading 
us  to  this  fatiguing  summit,  but  I  now  thank  you  for  it.  You 
have  been  here  before,  and  we  having  shared  with  you  the  hard 
knocks  of  many  campaigns,  you  wished  to  share,  with  us  the 
pleasures  of  this  foresight  of  Paradise.  When  did  you  first 
discover  this  magnificent  view?  '  It  exceeds  in  beauty  anything 
I  ever  beheld,  even  in  our  beautiful  Spain." 

"My  friend,"  answered  the  Sergeant,  "it  is  a  strange  tale, 
but  true.  In  a  dream,  or  vision,  I  beheld  this  Terrestrial  Para- 
dise. Thirty  years  ago,  when  yet  a  boy,  before  I  had  buckled 
on  the  armor  of  Spain,  approaching  my  native  city  of  Granada, 
I  stopped  to  rest  on  the  famous  summit  called  '  The  Moor's 
Last  Sigh/  and  while  drinking  in  the  magnificence  of  Granada, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    EANGEE.  69 

the  beauty  of  the  Vega  and  the  silver  sheen  of  the  Guadalquiver 
in  its  serpentine  windings,  I  fell  into  a  sound  slumber,  and  in 
my  dreams  was  transported  to  this  very  spot,  and  instead  of  my 
armed  comrades,  as  now,  our  Blessed  Lady,  the  Angel  Queen, 
stood  beside  me  in  a  halo  of  glory,  and,  after  pointing  out  the 
surrounding  loveliness  of  Nature,  she  indicated  the  spot  below 
us  whereon  I  should  found  a  city  that  in  time  should  rival  and 
eclipse  in  magnificence  and  beauty  our  filmed  Granada.  That 
the  valley  before  us  would  in  wealth  and  productiveness  exceed 
the  Vega,  and  the  river  that  sweeps  the  valley  at  our  feet 
would  become  the  theme  of  song  and  story  even  as  the  sweet 
Guadalquiver. 

"  'Found  thou  here  a  city/  said  the  Queen,  and  in  a  radiance 
of  glory  she  ascended  from  the  earth  and  left  me  alone.  I 
awoke  and  found  it  to  be  a  dream — no !  a  vision !  Such  a 
vision  as  that  of  St.  John.  The  vision  as  we  now  behold  it, 
save  the  presence  of  the  queen,  has  ever  been  before  me. 
While  tossed  on  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  I  could  see  it.  It 
was  before  me  on  the  battlefield,  in  camp,  at  the  guard  post, 
on  the  march,  ever  present,  asleep  or  awake ;  and  now,  Cor- 
poral, with  the  h^lp  of  Our  Lady,  the  favor  of  God,  the 
permission  of  Don  Felipe,  and  the  assistance  of  the  most 
reverend,  the  Father  President,  I  am  going  to  found  the  city 
NUESTRA  SENORA  KEINA  DE  Los  ANGELES.  Long  have  I 
served  the  King ;  thou,  Corporal,  thou,  brave  Bannegas,  hast 
grown  gray  in  his  service ;  to-morrow,  comrades,  let  us  to  His 
Excellency,  Don  Felipe  de  Neve,  beg  our  discharge,  gather  the 
few  that  are  free,  procure  the  proper  authority,  and  found  a 
city  for  Our  Lady.  I  comprehend  your  thoughts,  comrades. 
I  know  we  are  poor.  Imperial  Rome  had  a  small  beginning ; 
so  will  ours,  but  there  must  be  a  starting  point  for  every  enter- 
prise; ours  will  have  the  special  protection  of  our  Lady  Queen, 
the  favor  of  God,  and  will  grow  to  be  one  of  the  brightest 
jewels  of  the  earth.  Comrades,  shall  we  proceed  ?  " 


70  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

The  Corporal  and  Bannegas  having  become  possessed  of  the 
spirit  of  the  inspiration,  with  the  Sergeant,  pledged  themselves 
to  the  enterprise,  and  having  enjoyed  a  hearty  repast  and 
agreed  upon  the  point  whereon  to  locate  the  city  of  Los 
Angeles,  they  saddled  their  horses,  struck  their  tent,  and  the 
Indian  having  repacked  the  sumpter  mule,  the  small  cavalcade 
took  up  its  line  of  march  to  San  Gabriel. 

On  the  day  following  the  meeting  on  the  bluff,  after  mass, 
guard-mounting  and  the  other  military  duties  at  San  Gabriel, 
the  good  Sergeant  ISTavarro  followed  by  the  corporal  and  Ban- 
negas,  presented  themselves  before  Don  Felipe  de  Neve,  Gover- 
nor and  Military  Comandante  of  California,  laid  before  him 
their  plans  and  begged  their  discharge  from  the  military  service 
of  Spain.  They,  in  addition  to  long  service  in  other  parts  of 
the  world,  had  been  ten  years  in  California. 

At  first  the  Governor  was  disposed  to  discourage  the  founda- 
tion of  a  city,  and  inquired  of  the  Sergeant  where  he  would 
procure  his  "  Pobladores." 

The  Sergeant  was  prepared  for  the  question,  and  informed 
him  that  himself,  the  Corporal  and  Bannegas  made  three. 
Then  he  counted  five  others  at  San  Gabriel,  two  at  San  Diego, 
and  two  at  San  Juan  Capistrano,  all  of  whom  would  join  in 
forming  the  settlement.  The  Father  President  of  the  missions 
was  then  consulted,  who  having  promised  material  and  spiritual 
aid,  on  the  26th  day  of  August,  1781,  Don  Felipe  de  Neve 
signed  the  order  directing  the  foundation  of  the  pueblo,  and  on 
the  5th  of  September,  one  hundred  years  ago,  the  war-scarred 
veteran,  Navarro,  bearing  the  image  of  Nuestra  Seiiora  La 
Eeina  de  Los  Angeles,  followed  by  Corporal  Quintero  with 
the  unfurled  banner  of  Spain,  Bannegas  carrying  the  cross  to 
be  erected  on  the  Plaza  of  the  new  city.  Then  came  the  nine 
other  founders  followed  by  the  women  and  children  to  the  num- 
ber of  thirty-six.  The  mission  fathers,  the  neophytes  and  nuns 
of  San  Gabriel  were  present,  the  Governor  and  military,  less 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


71 


the  guard,  were  on  the  ground  to  add  to  the  pomp  and  ceremony 
of  the  occasion. 

Mid  the  blare  of  trumpet,  beat  of  drum  and  the  chant  of  t he- 
priests,  the  cross  was  erected,  Mass  duly  solemnized,  the  Plaza 
was  marked  out  and  the  procession  of  priests,  nuns,  soldiers, 
women,  children  and  Indians  marched  in  joyful,  yet  solemn 
procession  to  celebrate  the  birth  of  the  new  city,  Queen  of  the 
Angels,  after  which  the  Governor,  the  military,  the  mission 
fathers,  the  neophytes  and  nuns  departed  for  the  mission,  leav- 
ing the  brave  Sergeant,  the  Corporal,  the  soldier  Bannegas, 
their  nine  coadjutors,  their  wives  and  their  children  in  quiet 
possession  of  the  new  born  city. 


72  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Most  Useful  Man  and  How  He  Played  it  on  Friar  Juan,  of  Agua 
Mansa — His  Duel  with  General  Magruder — Juan  Largo  Versus  Juan 
Ghapo — A  Wonderful  Lawsuit — Myron  Norton,  Don  Jose,  and  the 
Mixed  Jury — Cobarrubias. 

INE  of  my  first  acquaintances  made  in  the  Angelic  city 

1  [f  was  Doctor •,  a  most  noted  character  in  his  day, 

and  he  forcibly  verified  the  old  adage  that  "  every  dog 
has  his  day."  The  Doctor  came  to  California  as  hospital 
steward  in  Stephenson's  Pioneer  Regiment,  which,  I  am 
inclined  to  believe,  was  the  Esculapian  fountain  from  which 
the  learned  Doctor  drew  his  first  draughts  of  medical  wisdom. 
The  renowned  Doctor  was  a  '-'most  useful  man,"  to  quote  the 
language  of  our  lamented  local  historian,  and  filled  many 
important  offices  in  his  day,  among  which  were  those  of 
Deputy  Sheriff,  Constable,  Court  Interpreter,  Xotary  Public, 
Town-Crier,  Auctioneer,  Representative  to  the  State  Legisla- 
ture, and  Postmaster.  The  Doctor  first  distinguished  himself 
as  a  local  Democratic  politician,  and  made  himself  prominent, 
and  this  is  hpw  it  was  : 

In  the  Presidential  canvass  of  1852,  thw  two  parties,  Whig 
and  Democrat,  were  warmly  arrayed  one  against  the  other. 
The  Democratic  outlook  was  good,  except  in  one  particular 
precinct,  that  of  Jurupa — and  it  is  here  proper  to  say  that  Los 
Angeles  County  at  that  time  embraced  all  the  territory  of 
San  Bernardino,  the  division  having  been  made  in  1854.  Old 
Louis  Roubideaux  was  the  lord  of  Jurupa,  that  is,  he  owned 
and  occupied  the  Jurupa  Rancho,  and  he  was  a  Whig,  and 
could  not  be  won  over  in  any  way.  The  case  seemed  hopeless, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  73 

and  the  doctor  was  sent  out  with  his  saddle-bags  full  of  Dem- 
ocratic tickets  to  act  as  a  forlorn  hope  in  the  cause  of  the 
General  who  threw  his  horse  over  his  head.  Then  and  there 
was  where  the  transcendent  genius  of  the  embryo  politican 
cropped  out.  About  half  way  from  Jurupa,  which  was  then  a 
military  post,  to  San  Bernardino,  was  situated  the  most  beau- 
tiful little  settlement  I  ever  saw.  It  was  called  "Agua 
Mansa,"  meaning  gentle  water,  and  was  composed  entirely  of 
immigrants  from  Kew  Mexico,  numbering  some  200  souls — 
simple,  good  souls  they  were,  too,  primitive  in  their  style  of 
living,  kind  and  hospitable  to  strangers,  rich  in  all  that  went 
to  make  people  happy  and  content,  never  having  leen,  up  to 
that  time,  vexed  by  the  unceremonious  calls  of  the  Tax  Col- 
lector, owing  allegiance  to  none  save  the  simple,  kind-hearted 
old  priest  who  looked  after  their  spiritual  welfare,  with  peace 
and  plenty  surrounding  them,  the  good  people  of  Agua  Mansa 
went  to  make  as  contented  and  happy  a  people  as  could  be 
found  in  the  universe.  In  the  winter  of  1862  a  flood  in  the 
Santa  Ana  river  swept  away  their  houses,  gardens,  orchards, 
vineyards,  in  fact  all  of  their  splendid  agricultural  lands, 
leaving  nothing  save  a  hideous  plain  of  black  boulders  and 
cobble-stones  to  mark  the  place  where  once  stood  this  modern, 
miniature  Eden,  which  I  would  fain  describe. 

There  must  have  been  at  least  fifty  voters  at  Agua  Mansa, 
which  had  been  designated  as  the  voting  place  for  the  Jurupa 
precinct,  and  to"  this  place  hied  the  noble  Doctor  as  the  avant 
courier  of  American  civilization,  to  give  this  primitive  people 
their  first  lesson  in  the  mysteries  of  American  citizenship. 

The  doctor  was  a  New  Yorker,  and  may  have  had  past  expe- 
rience in  the  management  of  elections.  In  this  instance,  he  not 
only  proved  himself  an  adept,  but  a  perfect  master  of  the  busi- 
ness. Arriving  at  Agua  Mansa,  he  dismounted,  tied  his  hungry 
mustang,  divested  himself  of  his  leather  Mexican  leggins  and 
jingling  spurs,  and  with  the  -sacred  saddle-bags  on  his  arm, 


74  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

with  solemn  step  and  downcast  eyes,  he  bent  his  way  to  the 
little  adobe  church  that  stood  on  a  mound  in  the  center  of  the 
quiet  village.  Arriving  at  the  door  he  piously  uncovered,  reve- 
rently crossed  himself,  entered  and  prostrated  himself  in  front 
of  the  humble  altar,  and  was  then  and  there  discovered  by  the 
simple  old  priest,  who  sprinkled  him  with  holy  water  and  offered 
him  sweet  words  of  consolation.  Within  the  next  hour  the 
Doctor  informed  the  priest  that  his  piety  (the  priest's,  not 
the  Doctor's)  had  a  world-wide  fame,  that  in  the  distant  land 
of  New  York  the  sacred  name  of  Friar  Juan,  of  Agua  Mansa, 
was  a  household  word  among  all  good  Catholics,  and  he,  the 
Doctor  had  made  a  pilgrimage  hither  to  invoke  the  prayers  of 
the  saintly  Juan  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  his  mother,  (the 
Doctor's  mother,  not  the  priest's,)  at  which  period  the  Doctor 
slipped  a  "slug"  into  the  palm  of  the  astonished  Juan. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  prayers  and  masses  were  the  order  of 
the  day,  and  on  the  following  morning,  at  the  breakfast  table, 
the  Doctor  informed  the  priest  that  an  election  would  be  held 
on  that  day  for  President  of  the  United  States  ;  that  one  can- 
didate, General  Scott,  was  a  great  heretic,  and  was  the  tyrant 
who  made  war  on  the  Catholics  of  Mexico ;  and  that  it  would 
be  a  great  calamity  to  the  Catholic  world  should  Scott  be 
elected ;  that  Pierce,  the  other  candidate,  was  a  good  Catholic, 
and  if  elected,  would  build  Catholic  churches  all  over  the  world, 
and  that  it  therefore  behooved  them,  as  good  Catholics,  to  see 
that  Agua  Mansa  cast  its  vote  for  Pierce.  And  Agua  Mansa 
did,  under  the  pious  instructions  of  the  saintly  Juan,  subject  to 
the  satanic  Doctor,  vote  early  and  all  day  for  the  Democratic 
candidate,  to  the  great  chagrin  of  old  Louis  lloubideaux,  who 
felt  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  lost  his  influence  with  the 
gentle  people  of  Agua  Mansa. 

Los  Angeles — with  all  its  repute  as  a  place  of  strife  and  tur- 
moil, the  abode  of  chivalry,  the  hot-bed  of  red-handed  ruffian- 
ism, a  place  where  every  man  carried  his  code  strapped  to  his 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  75 

posterior,  where  street  "brawls  were  the  order  of  the  day,  where 
all  difficulties  were  settled  on  the  spot,  then  and  there,  with 
bowie  knife  or  revolver — was  not,  strange  to  say,  save  in  one 
instance,  .to  witness  a  conflict  face  to  face,  man  to  man,  accord- 
ing to  the  code  of  honor.  Only  one  duel  was  ever  fought  in  Los 
Angeles.  Only  one  duel  was  ever  fought  in  Illinois,  and  prob- 
ably for  the  same  reasons.  The  terrible  results  of  the  two  duels, 
the  one  fought  in  the  Sucker  State  and  the  one  fought  in  this 
angelic  burgh,  were  so  horrible  in  their  endings  as  to  deter  all 
future  cluelistic  aspirants  from  a  conflict  on  the  ensanguined 
field  of  honor.  The  only  duel  ever  fought  in  Illinois  was  in 
effect  as  follows  : 

The  two  principals  met,  and  one  was  killed.  The  survivor 
was  tried,  convicted  and  hung  for  murder.  The  respective 
seconds  were  convicted  and  sentenced  to  hard  labor  in  the  State 
penitentiary,  and,  although  the  Governor  was  petitioned  to 
pardon  or  reprieve  both  the  principals  and  seconds,  he  proved 
obdurate,  and  the  seconds  served  their  time  out  in  the  peniten- 
tiary, and  in  penal  servitude  expiated  their  offence,  as  did  the 
surviving  principal  expiate  his  on  the  gallows.  Thereafter 
dueling  in  Illinois  became  unfashionable,  and  aspirants  for  such 
honors  gave  that  State  a  wide  berth. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  one  of  the  participants  in  this 
most  horrible  duel,  which  I  am  now  going  to  relate.  It  occurred 
in  1852,  the  valiant  Doctor  being  the  challenging  party,  and 
John  Bankhead  Magruder,  then  Colonel  of  the  Third  ^Artillery, 
commanding  at  San  Diego,  the  party  challenged.  The  horrible 
affair  occurred  in  this  wise  : 

Magruder  paid  Los  Angeles  a  visit,  and  the  prominent  citi- 
zens hereof  gave  the  distinguished  visitor  a  public  dinner.  The 
Doctor  was  a  most  prominent  citizen.  Magruder  loved  wine  ; 
Magruder  also  loved  women,  so  it  was  said.  No  women,  how- 
ever, were  present  at  the  dinner,  but  wine  flowed  as  wine  had 
never  flowed  before.  The  company  became  exhilarated,  conver- 


76  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

sation  became  general,  and  finally  the  question  of  great  men 
came  up  and  was  generally  discussed.  Wheeler  said  that 
Henry  Clay  was  the  greatest  of  American  statesmen.  G.  Thomp- 
son Burrill  said  that  Daniel  Webster  was  the  greatest  man  the 
world  ever  produced.  M&gruder  said  "  Old  .Hickory  Jackson 
was  the  greatest  man  who  ever  trod  shoe-leather."  The  Doctor 
said  :  "  My  father,  who  was  Sheriff  of  Cayurja  County,  N.  Y., 
was  the  greatest  of  all  Americans."  Magruder  indignantly 

looked  up,  and  said  that  the  Doctor  "  was  a  d d  fool."     A 

challenge  followed  ;  it  was  accepted,  to  be  settled  on  the  spot, 
i.e.,  in  the  10x20  dining-room  of  Harry  Monroe's  restaurant,  on 
Commercial  street  ;  distance,  from  end  to  end  of  the  table  ; 
weapons,  derringer  pistols.  Wilson  Jon^s,  the  Doctor's  second, 
got  the  word,  and  the  principals,  without  shaking  hands,  took 
their  respective  stations,  the  majestic  form  of  Magruder  tower- 
ing above  that  of  the.  diminutive  Doctor,  who  paled  and  shud- 
dered when  brought  face  to  lace  with  the  grim-visaged  son  of 
Mars.  All  was  suspense.  The  word  was  to  be  :  Heady!  fire! 
One,  two,  three!  At  the  word  "ready,"  to  the  dismay  of  all, 
the  Doctor  blazed  away.  When  the  smoke  cleared  away,  to  the 
horror  of  the  valiant  disciple  of  Esculapius,  his  antagonist  stood 
as  stiff  and  defiant  as  an  avenging  demon.  The  Doctor  quailed  ; 
Magruder  glared  savagely  on  him  for  a  full  minute.  The  spec- 
tators, spell-bound,  looked  on  with  horrible  forebodings. 
Magruder  took  two  "side  steps  to  the  right,"  which  brought 
him  clear  of  the  end  of  the  table.  He  then  advanced  the  "  right 
foot  full  to  the  front,"  with  his  glaring  eye-balls  bent  fiercely  on 
the  now  terrified  Doctor.  He  then  brought  the  left  foot  up  to 
the  rear  of  the  right  heel,  and  leveled  his  derringer  at  the 
ghastly  face  of  the  trembling  Doctor.  Then  he  advanced  the 
right  foot  as  before,  and  in  this  way,  with  firm  and  unrelenting 
tread,  he  slowly  advanced  on  the  now  thoroughly  frightened 
Doctor,  who  made  a  movement  toward  the  door.  The  specta- 
tors interposed,  and  cut  off  the  possibility  of  retreat  in  that 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  77 

direction.  The  Doctor  tried  to  flank  the  Colonel  by  skirmishing 
around  the  table.  Magruder  faced  to  the  left,  as  though  moving 
on  a  pivot,  and  kept  the  direful  derringer  aimed  directly  at  the 
Doctor's  pallid  countenance.  In  the  excitement  the  Doctor  ran 
under  the  table,  crawled  through,  grasped  the  knees  of  the 
irate  hero,  and  affectionately  embracing  them,  said: 

"Colonel  Magruder,  for  the  love  of  God,  spare  me  for  my 
family." 

The  Colonel  gave  him  a  kick,  and  said  : 
"D — n  you  !     I'll  spare  you  for  the  hangman." 
And  so  ended  this  remarkable  duel,  which  would  have  ended 
in  "murder  most  foul"  only  the  derringers  aforesaid  where  then 
and  there  only  loaded  with  poivder  and  bottle  corks,  a  circum- 
stance only  known  at  the  time  to  the  respective  seconds. 

Magruder  deservedly  became  one  of  the  heavy  guns  of  the 
war  between  the  States.  The  Doctor  shuffled  off  this  mortal 
coil  somewhere  about  1868.  Magruder  has  fired  his  last  shot, 
and  most  of  the  witnesses  to  that  first  and  last  duel  in  this  city 
of  fair  name  and  former  evil  repute  have  gone  "to  the  last 
bourne" — have  handed  in  their  mortal  checks. 

Several  scions  of  chivalry  have  at  various  times  tried  to  get 
up  affairs  of  honor  in  this  city,  but  when  reminded  of  the  horri- 
ble fate  that  befel  "  the  most  useful  mau,"  their  courage  failed 
and  they  could  never  be  brought  to  the  scratch. 

"The  most  useful  man"  cast  a  halo  of  disgust  over  the 
sacred  code  of  honor,  and  ever  since,  in  Los  Angeles,  dueling 
has  been  regarded  as  odious  and  highly  dangerous  to  one's 
honor. 

"The  Doctor  often  acted  as  Deputy  Sheriff,"  so  says  the 
lamented  historian.  He  was  once  elected  Town  Constable,  so 
this  pious  writer  avers,  and  further  alleges,  that  the  renowned 
subject  of  this  sketch  was  a  natural  born  bailiff.  When  armed 
with  an  execution,  he  invariably  found  something  to  levy  on, 


78  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

aud  woe  be  to  the  judgment  debtor  when  the  Doctor  got  after 
him  with  the  writ. 

He  could  not  draw  blood  out  of  a  turnip,  but  he  could  get 
money  out  of  the  most  impecunious.  He  used  to  play  all  kinds 
of  "  roots  "  in  getting  a  turn  on  a  man  against  whom  he  held 
the  righteous  writ.  He  has  been  known  to  treat  his  victim 
every  day  for  a  month,  and  cajole  him  in  every  conceivable 
way,  until  he  would  thoughtlessly  plank  down  an  eight-square 
slug,  and  the  long  fingers  of  the  Doctor  would  go  for  it. 

"  I  levy  on  that,"  he  would  say,  and  away  would  go  the  poor 
devil's  coin. 

"  The  most  useful  man  "  has  been  known  to  hide  under  the 
end  of  a  counter  a  week,  waiting  for  a  victim  to  lay  a  piece  of 
gold  on  the  counter,  and  then  would  come  the,  "  I  levy  on  that." 
Oh,  he  was  born  to  be  a  bailiff,  was  this  "most  useful  man." 

One  more  anecdote  of  "the  most  useful  man,"  and  I  will 
hand  him  over  to  some  future  historian  who  can  do  full  justice 
to  his  many  and  transcendant  virtues.  About  December, 
1852,  there  occurred  a  most  wonderful  lawsuit  in  Los  Angeles, 
in  which  the  Doctor  played  a  prominent  part  in  his  ministerial 
capacity  of  Constable.  The  suit  occupied  our  Justice's  Court 
for  some  two  or  'three  weeks  ;  no  jury  could  agree  ;  trial  after 
trial  with  the  same  result.  The  case  might  be  found  on  the 
old  docket  of  Thompson  Burrill,  and  would  probably  read 
thus  : 

"Juan  Largo  vs.  Juan  Chapo — Suit  in  Eeplevin..  Subject, 
a  lank  old  mustang." 

Juan  Largo  was  owner  in  fee  simple  of  many  thousands  of 
broad  and  fertile  acres.  Juan  Largo  was  the  owner  of  cattle 
on  a  thousand  hills ;  he  was  also  the  happy  possessor  of 
thousands  of  first-class  mustangs.  Juan  Largo  was  rich, 
powerful  and  happy.  Juan  Largo  was  a  chief.  Juan  Chapo 
was  a  poor,  impecunious  manipulator  of  monte  cards,  always 
flat  broke;  always  ready  to  "watch  the  game"  for  the  more 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  79 

fortunate  of  the  fraternity;  always  asking  for  a  "cow,"  and 
sometimes  borrowing  a  "stake"  with  which  to  play  a  small 
game  of  "  short  cards ; "  was  a  regular  "  bucker,"  but  never 
known  to  make  a  "tap."  Juan  Chapo  was  poor.  Of  this 
world's  goods  he  was  devoid,  save  and  except  one  poor,  lean, 
lank,  barrel-headed,  slab-sided,  ewe-necked,  sway-backed,  flat- 
footed,  bob-tailed  mustang,  which  he  was  wont  to  bestride, 
and,  with  huge,  jingling  Mexican  spurs,  cavort  around  the 
Plaza  and  up  and  down  Main  street,  imagining  himself  to  be 
the  envy  of  scowling  Dons  and  the  admired  of  all  the  sefioras 
and  senoritas  in  the  city  so  famed  for  the  beauty  of  its  ladies. 
That  lank  apology  for  a  horse  was  the  sum  total  of  the  worldly 
wealth  of  poor  Juan  Chapo.  Strange  to  say,  that  miserable 
mustang  was  coveted  by  the  lordly  Juan  Largo,  who  explained 
by  saying :  "  The  value  of  the  horse  to  me  is  as  chaff,  but  there 
are  family  traditions  connected  with  that  horse  that  makes  him 
dear  to  my  heart.  He  has  been  stolen ;  he  bears  my  brand 
and  I  am  bound  to  have  him."  Hence  the  suit  in  replevin. 
Strange,  that  the  great  chief  in  his  wisdom  failed  to  bethink 
him  that  the  impecunious  Chapo  would  have  been  more  than 
willing  to  part  with  this  relic  of  barbarism  for  the  paltry 
.consideration  of  about  $12.50.  However,  the  mighty  Largo 
had  assumed  his  war  paint,  and  his  voice  was  for  war.  The 
main  difficulty  in  the  suit  was  in  determining  the  brand,  the 
particular  brand  belonging  and  appertaining  to  Juan  Largo ; 
for,  be  it  known,  that  lank  Mexican  mustang  was  covered  with 
brands  on  his  hind  quarters  and  his  fore  quarters,  brands  on 
the  top  of  brands,  and  had  evidently  been  in  the  possession  of 
all  the  Hidalgos  from  the  time  of  the  glorious  Conquistador 
down  to  the  time  of  the  humble  J  nan  Chapo,  whose  brand  had 
not  been  burned  into  the  frizzled  and  fried  hide  of  the  poor 
brute,  for  the  reason  only  that  Juan  Chapo  was  too  poor 
to  own  a  brand,  and  had  not  bethought  him  to  borrow  one. 
One  jury  failed  to  agree  and  was  discharged ;  another  was 


80  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

impaneled  and  sworn.  This  jury  insisted  on  having  the  beast 
shaved  in  order  that  the  brand  might  be  more  easily  discovered. 
A  requisition  was  accordingly  made  on  the  tonsorial  skill 
of  Peter  Biggs,  who,  in  the  presence  of  the  Court,  Jury  and 
congregated  crowd  of  gamblers  and  hard  cases,  proceeded 
to  denude  the  horrid  creature  of  every  hair,  from  his  jaw-bones 
to  the  root  of  his  tail,  leaving  him  as  sleek  and  smooth  as  the 
hairless  dog  Dona  Concha.  The  Jury  viewed  the  shorn  monster 
and  were  more  mystified  than  ever.  There  were  too  many 
brands.  Where  dim  outlines  of  Juan  Largo's  brand  could  be 
traced,  a  half-dozen  others  would  traverse  it  in  all  possible 
directions.  This  Jury  failed  to  agree.  Another  was  drummed 
up  and  mustered  in,  one  of  whom  bethought  him  of  a  great 
expert  in  brands,  and  if  Juan  Largo's  brand  had  ever  been 
burned  into  the  hide  of  that  horrible  horse,  then  Don  Jose,  the 
expert,  could  explain  and  discern  it.  Don  Jose,  who  dwelt 
beyond  the  Santa  Ana,  was  accordingly  sent  for.  In  the 
meantime  the  jury  gravely  discussed  the  momentous  question. 
This  was  an  "intelligent  jury  ;  "  so  said  the  Court.  It  was  a 
mixed  jury,  so  far  as  color  and  nationality  went ;  so  says  the 
author.  A  very  intelligent  idea  entered  the  twelve  wise  heads, 
in  form  and  effect  as  follows : 

They  procured  the  services  of  a  draughtsman  and  some  trans- 
parent tracing  paper,  which  was  applied  to  the  side  of  the 
astonished  bronco,  and  a  traced  copy  of  the  manifold  and  many 
brands  was  obtained,  and  spread'out  on  the  table  in  front  of  the 
Court  and  jury  for  Don  Jose's  inspection  when  he  should  arrive, 
it  being  deemed  advisable  for  him  to  first  pass  upon  the  brands 
before  seeing  the  horse.  In  due  time  the  Don  put  in  an 
appearance,  only  too  proud  to  be  regarded  as  so  great  an  expert. 
The  trace  of  the  brands  was  spread  out  before_him,  and  he  was 
requested  to  explain. 

He  examined  it  in  many  ways  ;  he  viewed  it  from  a  front 
position  ;  took  an  oblique  squint  at  it  ;  closed  one  eye  and  saw 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  81 

it;  he  examined  it  first  one  side  up  and  then  the  other  side. 
One  irreverent  juror  was  about  to  suggest  that  he  had  better 
stand  on  his  head  and  look  at  it.  An  outsider  said  he  had  bet- 
ter put  a  wet  blanket  over  his  head  and  see  it  that  way. 

The  Court  finally  addressed  itself  to.  the  great  expert,  and 
said  : 

"  Well,  Don  Jose,  what  do  you  make  out  of  that  ?" 

"  Quien  sabe,"  *-vas  the  reply.  "  It  greatly  resembles  the 
map  of  Sonora." 

This  jury  also  failed  to  agree,  but  the1  suit  was  not  yet  at  an 
end.  Another  jury  was  ordered.  In  the  meantime  it  was 
agreed  between  our  esteemed  old  friend,  Judge  Myron  Norton, 
who  was  counsel  for  the  impecunious  Chapo,  and  the  lordly  Juan 
Largo,  that  the  controversy  should  be  settled  by  "  gage  of  bil- 
liards," and  that  the  game  should  be  played  by  the  Judge  and 
Largo  himself.  The  author  has  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
that  game  of  billiards,  played  in  the  "  El  Dorado  "  of  revered 
memory,  was  witnessed  with  greater  interest  than  was  ever 
before  given  to  a  game  of  equal  importance.  The  game  was 
long,  well  played,  and  every  shot  delivered  with  all  the  cool  cal- 
culation demanded  by  the  great  stake  played  for.  Every  avail- 
able space  not  required  by  the  contestants  was  occupied  by  the 
eager  and  excited  spectators  ;  the  house  was  crowded  to  suffo- 
cation ;  anxious  faces  peered  in  at  the  windows ;  sharp  eyes 
peeped  through  every  crink  and  cranny  of  the  frail  house.  The 
tall  looked  over  the  shoulders  of  the  low  in  stature,  and  for 
three  days  the  game  went  on.  Hughes'  bottles  were  filled,  re- 
filled, and  again  emptied ;  demijons  were  squeezed,  and 
Hughes  sent  out  for  a  further  f  supply,  when  all  at  once  an 
immense  cheer  went  up  that  shook  the  plaza  like  an  earthquake. 
Myron  Norton  had  won  the  game.  The  mustang  was  poor 
Juan  Chapo's. 

Norton  was  triumphantly  raised   on    the   shoulders   of  his 

friends  ;  Juan  Largo  was  carried  out  on  a  raw-hide.     Cheer  upon. 
6 


82  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

cheer  went  up  for  Norton,  and  Juan  Chapo  aud  the  angels 
went  on  a  general  bust  for  the  night.  Imagine,  then,  the  con- 
sternation of  the  enraged  multitude  when  it  was  announced  on 
the  following  day  that  the  recreant  Largo  refused  to  abide  by 
the  result  of  the  game  of  billiards,  and  still  laid  claim  to  the 
poor  horse,  and  still  pressed  his  suit  before  Judge  Thompson 
Burrill.  Judge  Norton  vituperated ;  poor  Chapo  swore  in 
both  English  and  Spanish ;  and  the  hard  cases  spoke  in  terms 
by  no  means  complimentary  to  the  lordly  Juan  Largo. 

A  new  jury  had  been  impaneled  and  sworn,  and  the  gay  and 
chivalrous  Norton,  and  the  now  grim-visaged  little  Juan  Chapo, 
posted  on  his  left  and  rear,  again  came  to  the  legal  scratch. 
For  two  more  wearisome  days  the  contest  waxed  warm  for  the 
possession  of  the  poor  tormented  mustang.  The  case  went  to 
the  jury  who  were  out  all  night  (on  a  bust),  and  on  the  opening 
of  Court  in  the  morning  came  in  with  a  verdict  for  the  now 
exultant  Juan  Largo.  Juan  Chapo  consoled  himself  by  saying: 
"  Well,  I've  lost  my  horse,  but  old  Largo  has  to  pay  the  costs." 
which  was  really  the  case,  being  a  suit  in  replevin,  surety  for 
the  costs  had  been  duly  filed,  and  oh !  horror  of  horrors !  that 
bill  of  costs  !  They  knew  then  how  to  tax  the  costs,  not  quite 
so  well  as  now,  but  still  they  knew  how  to  pile  them  up  in 
those  early  days  of  litigation,  and  the  Doctor  knew  how  to  col- 
lect them.  He  and  Thompson  had  caught  a  fat  goose  and  they 
knew  how  to  pluck  him,  and  pluck  him  they  did  without 
mercy.  The  lordly  Juan  Largo  had  won  a  costly  victory.  The 
costs  amounted  to  more  than  $3,000. 

During  the  long  and  wearisome  trial  before  the  last  jury,  the 
punctilious  Court,  now  grown  impatient,  fined  a  delinquent 
juror  $20  for  contempt.  Change  was  so  scarce  at  the  time, 
that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  change  a  $50  piece,  so  the  juror 
defiantly  flung  a  slug  on  the  table  and  said,  "  change  that  if 
you  can,  and  take  your  fine,"  feeling  confident  the  Court  would 
be  unable  to  break  the  coin. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  83 

"  I  levy  on  that"  said  the  Doctor,  pouncing  upon  the  slug, 
to  the  surprise  and  consternation  of  the  discomfited  and 
now  thoroughly  subdued  arbiter  of  justice. 

Oh  |  he  was  the  very  prince  of  bailiffs,  was  that  ''most  useful 
man." 

To  the  mind  of  an  American  patriot  the  two  most  important 
events  in  California  pioneer  history  was  the  raising  of  the  first 
American  flag  at  Monterey  and  the  admission  of  the  State  in 
the  social  circle  of  the  Union,  and  the  reception  of  the  news  of 
that  important  act  of  September  9th,  1850.  Next  in  import- 
ance, politically,  was  the  first  vote  cast  in  California  for  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  as  aforesaid  ;  and  the  transmission 
of  the  electoral  vote  to  Washington  will,  in  this  chapter  of 
truthful  history,  be  the  subject  of  a  reminiscent  sketch  of  a 
pioneer  of  ponderous  political  proportions.  But,  first,  I  must 
tell  something  about  the  first  flag  and  the  first  flagstaff  at  Mon- 
terey. The  world  gives  Fremont  the  credit  of  planting  that 
historical  pole  and  nailing  thereto  the  flag  of  our  country.  The' 
world  in  this  instance  is  mistaken.  That  eminent  but  modest 
soldier  and  patriot,  General  George  Stoneman,  is  the  man  in 
question. 

There  must  have  been  an  immense  number  of  people  engaged 
in  raising  that  original  Monterey  flag,  as,  within  the  last  fifteen 
years  I've  known  at  least  five  hundred  persons  who  claimed  the 
honor  individually  and  non-collectively,  the  last  of  whom  is 
Captain  Lewis  G.  Green,  the  colored  janitor  of  the  Los  Angeles 
Court  House.  Strange  it  is,  but  true,  I  have  never  known  a 
man  to  claim  the  honor  of  firing  cannon  at  San  Francisco  and 
Sacramento  or  any  other  place  on  the  reception  of  the  admis- 
sion news,  though  a  great  amount  of  gunpowder  was  burnt 
in  honor  of  that  event.  The  joyful  announcement  reached 
Sacramento  during  the  night.  About  the  middle  of  October, 
1850.  before  daylight,  a  cannon  was,  I  believe,  brought  in  from 
Sutter's  Fort,  ran  into  position  at  the  foot  of  J  street,  and 


84  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

commencing  at  the  exact  minute  of  sunrise  fired  a  national 
salute.  Having  just  come  down  from  the  Deer  Creek  gold 
washings,  our  party  was  encamped  under  the  historical  live  oak 
on  the  levee  opposite  the  gun,  (bad  luck  to  the  man  who  cut  it 
down).  Those  cannoneers  must  have  all  died  or  disappeared, 
otherwise  we  would  hear  of  or  from  them. 

General  Cobarrubias  was  the  eminent  character  who  bore  the 
California  electoral  vote  of  1852  to  our  country's  capital  to  be 
cast  for  Franklin  Pierce  as  President  of  the  United  States. 

It  was  a  very  pretty  and  delicate  compliment  in  appointing 
a  native  of  California  and  a  Mexican  to  cast  our  first  electoral 
vote.  There  was  chivalry  in  the  act ;  and  why  not !  Was 
not  California  then  the  double-distilled  quintescence  of  chivalry? 
General  Cobarrubias  was  an  out-and-out  representative  of  the 
chivalry  of  the  times.  Elegant  in  his  manners  and  appearance; 
speaking  English  and  French  as  well  as  his  native  Spanish,  a 
thorough  politician  withal,  he  became  a  power  in  the  land,  and 
among  the  politicians  of  early  days  he  was  of  great  importance. 

The  General  was  convivial  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word. 
Yes,  he  was  bibulous.  He  could  drink  an  English  lord  under 
the  table  at  any  time,  place,  or  under  any  circumstances  what- 
ever. Many  is  the  "bout"  he  had  with  Ned  McGowan, 
John  McDougall,  Elkin  Heydenfeldt,  Ipsydoodle  Ferguson  and 
their  friends,  the  most  eminent  drinkers  of  the  day,  all  of  whom 
fell  before  his  remarkable  powers  of  absorption,  unless,  per- 
chance, the  ubiquitous  McGowan. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  his  mission  to  the  Electoral  Col- 
lege he  paid  Los  Angeles  a  visit  of  honor  (Gen.  Cobarrubias 
resided  at  Santa  Barbara),  and  was  taken  in  charge  by  the 
leading  Democrats  of  the  city,  and  given  a  public  dinner  at  the 
Cafe  Barriere.  Among  the  guests  present  were  those  renowned 
bon  vivants,  Myron  Norton,  Ezra  Drown,  Charles  Edward  Carr, 
Ogier  and  Brent,  who,  being  aware  of  the  General's  wonderful 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  85 

powers  of  endurance,  resolved  to  mix  his  wine  with  brandy,  and 
place  him  hors  du  combat. 

The  festive  board  was  spread  and  the  guests  were  seated  at 
8  o'clock  sharp,  and  the  bibulous  battle  began  in  good  earnest. 
At  midnight  many  who  were  active  at  the  opening  of  the  festive 
artillery  began  to  retire.  Norton  was  top  heavy  ;  Drown  was 
half-seas-over ;  Carr  was  waterlogged,  and  Ogier  was  in  search 
of  soundings  whereon  to  cast  his  anchor.  The  General  was  as 
cool  and  level-headed  as  was  Farragut  while  running  the  forts 
of  the  Mississippi.  At  3  o'clock  Madame  Barriere  and  her  corps 
of  waiters  retired  from  the  field,  leaving  the  level-headed  Cobar- 
rubias  engaged  in  drawing  the  cork  from  a  fresh  bottle,  and 
smilingly  contemplating  the  maudlin  antics  of  his  befuddled 
entertainers.  Daylight  came,  and  the  Madame  heard  the  bell 
ringing  in  the  dining-room,  and  repairing  thither,  what  a  sight 
met  her  astonished  gaze.  General  Cobarrubias  was  sitting  in 
his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table,  smoking  his  cigar  and  reading 
a  newspaper,  and  the  flower  of  American  chivalry  were  laying 
around  promiscuously,  and  under  the  table.  "  Madame,"  said 
the  hero,  gracefully  waving  his  hand  toward  his  fallen  com- 
rades (?),  "what  queer  people  these  Americans  are.  They  fight 
valiantly,  but  always  fall  early  in  the  action.  They  have  no 
bottom.  You  may  bring  me  a  bottle  of  cognac,  after  drinking 
which  I  can  stand  three  soft-boiled  eggs  and  a  cup  of  coffee." 

A  great  man  was  General  Cobarrubias.  The  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance of  the  Democratic  politicians  of  San  Francisco 
escorted  the  General  to  the  steamer,  saw  him  safely  quartered 
in  the  finest  state-room  on  board,  where  a  deluge  of  wine  was 
turned  on,  and  continued  to  flow  until  the  steamer  was  brought 
to  and  overhauled  off  Meigg's  Wharf,  where  the  escort  left  the 
steamer,  which  majestically  and  like  a  thing  of  life  swept  past 
the  Golden  Gate,  bearing  Caasar  and  his  fortunes. 

The  General  had  the  seat  of  honor  at  the  ship's  table,  and 
wined  every  man  and  woman  at  the  table  who  would  be  wined, 


86  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

and  my  memory   faileth  me   in  my  attempt   to   remember  a 
single  soul  in  '52  who  would  refuse  to  be  wined. 

The  General  dispensed  a  bibulous  hospitality  in  his  state- 
room, gave  private  wine  suppers  in  the  ship's  cabin  at  late 
hours.  The  consequence  was  that  when  the  steamer  reached 
Panama  the  ship's  storekeeper  presented  the  General  with  a 
bill  of  $3,000  for  wine  on  the  fortnight's  voyage.  Oh  J  genius, 
where  dost  thou  dwell,  and  where  is  the  place  of  thy  nativity  ? 
Paris  ?  Berlin  ?  London  ?  or  the  other  capitals  of  the  old 
world  ?  New  York  ?  Boston  ?  or  Washington,  with  thy 
superlative  dead-head,  Beau  Hickman  ?  Yes  !  all  of  you  have 
given  birth  to  men  of  genius  who  have  electrified  the  world,  all 
of  whom  have  been  pigmies  as  compared  with  this  magnificent 
Barbarefio,  whose  genius  cropped  out  and  made  itself  as  mani- 
fest as  a  native  quartz  ledge,  for,  when  this  Brobdignagian 
liquor  bill  was  spread  out  before  the  General  he  only  cast  his 
eye  upon  the  following  figures,  to-wit,  $3,000,  when  coolly  and 
without  a  word  he  drew  his  check  for  the  amount  on  the 
National  Democratic  Committee,  pocketed  the  bill,  said  "Esta 
bueno,"  invited  the  storekeeper  and  purser  to  his  stateroom  to 
finish  up  a  tew  bottles,  then,  entering  a  boat,  the  General 
landed  at  Darien  to  pass  over  the  same  road  marked  out  by  his 
illustrious  countryman,  Nimez  de  Balboa.  On  the  Atlantic 
side  the  same  game  was  played  with  about  the  same  result. 
When  the  steamer  came  to  off  Sandy  Hook  the  news  went 
flying  to  New  York  that  Gen.  Cobarrubias,  a  Mexican 
Grandee  of  unlimited  wealth,  was  on  board,  bearing  the 
electoral  vote  of  California.  The  result  was  when  the  steamer 
drew  alongside  her  wharf,  all  Tammany  was  on  hand  to  receive, 
do  honor  to,  and  escort  the  Greneral  to  quarters  prepared  for 
him  at  the  Astor  House.  The  New  York  Democracy  had  a 
lion  for  a  guest,  and  they  showed  him  around.  His  reception 
was  equal  to  those  given  to  Gen.  Grant  on  his  voyage  around 
the  world. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  8T 

What !  A  former  Mexican  General,  a  California  Grandee  ! 
New  York  went  wild  over  him,  and  Tammany  appointed  a 
committee  to  escort  him  to  the  capital,  and  he  was  not  permit- 
ted to  spend  a  dollar  while  in  the  land  of  Knickerbocker  or  on 
his  way  to  and  from  the  capital.  Discharging  his  duties  at  the 
Electoral  College,  by  presenting  the  vote  of  California  in  a 
grandiloquent  speech,  in  which  he  pledged  his  State  to  the 
Democracy  for  all  time,  and  after  lionizing  in  Washington, 
the  Californian  returned  with  his  Tammany  escort  to  Man- 
hattan, and,  being  wined,  dined  and  lionized  a  second  time, 
was  duly  shipped  off  to  his  native  State. 

Drawing  his  check  on  "the  Committee"  at  the  Isthmus 
for  his  wine  bill,  which  for  the  last  time  he  repeated  at  San 
Francisco.  His  wine  checks  were  duly  honored  by  the  National 
Committee,  to  the  tune  of  about  $10,000.  And  why  not  ? 
Notwithstanding  the  General's  acres  were  very  wide,  and  his 
purse  it  was  quite  narrow,  still  he  was  a  General,  a  California 
Grandee,  and  the  National  Democracy  felt  honored  in  having 
such  an  eminent  person  cast  the  virgin  vote  of  the  young  State. 

The  great  man  is  long  since  dead.  The  mantle  of  magnifi- 
cence which  enveloped  the  graceful  form  of  the  father  has 
descended  in  diminished  grandeur,  and  rests  on  the  shoulders  of 
a  worthy  son  (a  small  chip  of  the  old  block),  and  the  name  of 
Cobarrubias  is  still  of  weighty  consequence  in  this  consequen- 
tially great  country. 


88  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    KANGEIl 


CHAPTER  V. 

Spanish  Families— Good  Society — A  First-class  Mexicau  Ball— Ranchero 
Hospitality— Captain  J.  Q.  A.  Stanley,  li.  S.  Den,  Bandini  and  Others- 
Washington's,  Birthday  Ball  in  1853— Assault  and  Hard  Fighting— The 
Dead — Myron  Norton  Wounded — The  Angels  on  a  War  Footing — 
Andres  Pico  Commands  the  Peace — The  Mission  Indians  Adopt  Gringo 
Customs  and  Hang  a  Man — Mission  Squirrels  Versus  Mission  Bells. 


the  writer  carne  to  Los  Angeles,  notwith- 
standing the  disjointed  state  of.  affairs,  society  was 
really  good  ;  better,  the  writer  ventures  the  asser- 
tion, than  at  present,  or  than  may  reasonably  be  expected 
within  the  next  decade.  Prior  to  and  at  that  time  the  old 
wealthy  and  intelligent  Spanish  families  had  formed  a  strictly 
exclusive  class.  They  went  to  make  up  the  aristocracy  of  this 
country,  and  dispensed  a  lil>eral  hospitality  that  did  honor  to 
them  as  a  people,  as  well  as  to  the  more*  favored  class  of 
Americans  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  gain  admission  to  their 
circles.  Many  of  them,  especially  the  well-fixed  rancheros, 
dispensed  a  baronial  hospitality,  and  they  could  well  afford  it. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  in  Los  Angeles  it  was  my  good  fortune 
to  attend  a  first-class  ball  at  the  house  of  Don  Jose  Antonio 
Carrillo;  a  first-class  citizen,  one  who  had  been  honored  with  a 
seat  in  the  Sovereign  Congress  of  Mexico.  He  had  also  been 
the  military  head  of  the  country,  and  was  at  the  head  of  native 
California  ton. 

The  ball  was  the  first  of  the  season,  and  was  attended  by 
the  elite  of  the  country  from  San  Diego  to  Monterey.  The 
dancing  hall  was  large,  with  a  floor  as  polished  as  a  bowling 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  89 

saloon.  The  music  was  excellent — one  splendid  performer  on 
an  immense  harp. 

The  assembled  company  was  not  only  elegant — it  was  sur- 
passingly brilliant,  The  dresses  of  both  ladies  and  gentlemen 
could  not  be  surpassed  in  expensive  elegance.  The  fashions  of 
the  gringo  world  had  made  little  innovation  on  the  gorgeous 
and  expensive  attire  of  the  country  as  to  the  gentlemen,  while 
the  ladies  were  resplendent  in  all  the  expense  of  fashion  that 
could  be  supplied  by  unlimited  resources.  The  writer  had  read 
Major  Emery's  book  on  California,  in  which,  after  lauding  the 
California  horsemen  above  the  Comanche  Indian  and  the 
Bedouin  Arab,  he  went  on  to  say  that  "the  ladies  excelled  in 
dancing  more  than  did  the  men  in  horsemanship." 

Being  thus  prepared,  the  writer  expected  to  witness  reason- 
ably elegant  Terpsichorean  performances,  but  the  dancing  on 
that  occasion  was  something  more  than  elegant,  it  was  wonder- 
ful, while  the  most  dignified  and  staid  decorum  was  observed 
to  the  end  of  the  festivities,  which  broke  up  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  It  was  at  this  ball  that  I  first  met  rny  old 
Ranger  comrade,  Captain  J.  Q.  A.  Stanley.  Among  other  dis- 
tinguished characters  at  the  ball  were  the  celebrated  Juan  Ban- 
dini,  a  learned  man  of  the  country,  Doctor  Don  Ilicardo  Den 
of  generous  and  chivalrous  memory,  who  being  a  subject  of 
Great  Britain  during  the  war  with  Mexico,  gave  his  services 
gratuitously  to  both  sides  in  the  war,  and  deservedly  won  the 
love  and  gratitude  of  all,  and  Don  Tomas  Sanchez,  a  true  son 
of  chivalry,  who  had  wielded  a  good  lance  at  San  Pascual. 

Some  two  and-a-half  months  thereafter  we  had  one  of  those 
very  elegant  and  exclusive  affairs  that  ended  in  blood,  its  very 
exclusiveness  being  the  cause  of  its  very  sanguinary  termina- 
tion. The  ball  was  given  at  the  house  of  Don  Abel  Stearns,  a 
very  wealthy  American,  on  Washington's  birthday,  February 
22,  1853,  and  was  a  grand  and  patriotic  affair,  but  very  exclu- 
sive. Somehow  or  other  two  or  three  gamblers  were  invited 


90  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

guests  at  the  ball,  which  gave  grave  offence  to  the  fraternity  in 
general,  among  whom  were  many  first  class  Americans,  good 
and  patriotic  fellows,  who  loved  their  country  and  venerated  the 
name  of  the*  immortal  hero  in  honor  of  whose  memory  the  grand 
affair  was  gotten  up.  These  gentlemen  maintained  that  on 
national  occasions  one  American  was  as  good  as  another,  and 
that  the  whole  community  were  on  an  equal  footing,  and  that 
to  attempt  an  exclusive  national  celebration  was  tomfoolery  of 
the  first  order.  So  about  two  hundred  of  them  assembled  to 
"bust  up"  and  disperse  the  exclusive  humbug.  The  first 
move  was  to  get  the  old  cannon,  which  had  grown  rusty  for  lack 
of  revolutions,  and  place  it  in  position  directly  in  front  of  the 
house  and  bearing  on  one  of  the  doors.  They  then  procured  a 
large  beam,  to  be  used  as  a  battering  ram  when  the  time  arrived 
for  the  general  assault — all  of  which  was  done  with  the  utmost 
silence. 

At  about  midnight,  when  the  patriotic  dancing  was  at  fever 
heat,  and  everything  was  hilarious  within,  the  old  gun  was  let 
off,  and  the  battering-ram  was  driven  with  terrific  force  against 
the  other  door.  Fortunately  the  cannon  was  badly  trained, 
and  the  charge  missed  the  door.  The  battering-ram,  however, 
did  its  work  well,  and  the  door  burst  in  with  a  tremendous 
crash.  It  fortunately  happened  that  one  game  little  fellow, 
who  was  one  of  the  exclusives,  was  dancing  directly  in  front  of 
the  burst-in  door,  and  had  a  battery  of  Colts  buckled  to  him, 
either  of  which  was  nearly  as  large  as  himself. 

This  patriotic  exclusive  stepped  directly  to  the  door  and 
plugged  the  first  gentleman  who  attempted  to  enter.  Then 
another,  and  another,  and  by  this  time  the  affair  had  assumed 
all  the  beautiful  proportions  of  a  first-class  revolution,  and  the 
firing  became  general.  Of  the  assailants  several  were  shot 
down,  and  the  assault  effectually  repulsed  ;  while  of  the  exclu- 
sives but  one  man  was  wounded,  and  he  the  gay  and  festive 
Myron  Norton,  the  chivalric  vanquisher  of  the  great  Largo  in 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  91 

that  memorable  game  of  billiards  heretofore  referred  to.  The 
brilliant  Norton  received  a  gentle  perforation,  that  placed  him 
liors  du  combat  for  some  time  thereafter. 

For  the  next  few  days  the  Angels  were  on  a  war  footing ; 
the  community  was  divided  ;  the  defeated  gamblers  swore  ven- 
geance ;  the  well-heeled  exclusives  were  on  the  alert,  deter- 
mined not  to  be  taken  unawares ;  a  general  conflict  seemed 
imminent ;  on  retiring  at  night  doors  were  barricaded  and  arms 
carefully  examined ;  a  silent,  moody  gloom  prevailed ;  the 
gamblers  would  meet  in  groups  and  menacingly  discuss  the 
situation  ;  the  business  part  of  the  community  was  greatly 
alarmed.  Confidence  was  only  restored  when  Don  Andres  Pico 
came  out  and  gave  the  gamblers  to  emphatically  understand 
that,  on  the  first  hostile  demonstration,  he  would  raise  the 
native  Californians  en  masse  against  them,  and  that  he  would 
not  be  responsible  for  the  consequences.  It  nevertheless  took 
months  to  cool  off  the  bad  blood  engendered  by  that  affair  of 
the  22nd  of  February,  1853,  and  for  some  time  individual  col- 
lisions were  of  frequent  occurrence. 

I  had  now  been  several  months  in  the  city  of  the  Angels,  and 
had  not  as  yet  visited  the  Mission  of  San  Gabriel.  So  one 
Monday  morning  I  mounted  a  fiery  mustang,  and  hied  me  over 
the  beautiful  green  prairie  sward  to  that  interesting  and  classic 
spot. 

The  reader  who  now  journeys  over  the  nine  miles  of  inter- 
vening hill  and  dale  between  Los  Angeles  and  San  Gabriel,  has 
to  draw  very  forcibly  on  his  imagination  to  take  in  the  land- 
scape as  it  then  was.  At  the  time  referred  to  the  writer  saw 
at  least  10,000  head  of  horses  pasturing  on  the  rich  and 
verdant  plain,  their  number  seeming  without  limit,  while  here 
and  there  could  be  seen  the  picturesque  figure  of  the  Lasador 
in  the  same  unique  costume  worn  five  hundred  years  ago  in  the 
Vega  of  Grenada,  or  on  the  plains  of  Morocco.  The  landscape 
was  romantic  and  lively  in  those  early  times,  us  now  it  is 


92  .REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

gloomy  and  monotonous.  The  lazy  sheep-herder,  with  his 
dusty  flock,  has  driven  out  the  snorting  mustang  and  his 
dashing  rider. 

I  necessarily  felt  a  great  exhilaration  of  spirits  on  arriving  at 
the  Mission.  The  beautiful  morning,  the  bracing  air,  the 
grand  mountain  scenery  in  front  of  me.  The  enlivening  scene 
constantly  present,  the  splendid  gait  of  my  well-broken  charger 
(the  word  mustang  would  be  an  insult  to  the  noble  horse 
ridden  on  that  occasion),  all  tended  to  inspire  a  buoyancy  of 
feeling  that  prepared  the  writer  to  enjoy  whatever  of  the 
pleasant  might  present  itself  at  the  Mission.  I  rode  up  to 
"  Headquarters "  and  was  met  by  a  very  handsome  black 
bearded  young  man  by  name  Roy  Bean,  brother  and  successor 
of  General  Josh  Bean.  The  General  had  been  the  proprietor 
of  the  "  Headquarters,"  the  first  grog-shop  of  the  place.  Roy 
was  dressed  in  elegant  Mexican  costume,  with  a  .pair  of  revolvers 
in  his  belt,  while  a  bowie  knife  was  neatly  sheathed  in  one  of 
his  red-topped  boots.  1  inquired  if  I  could  get  barley  for  my 
horse.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "as  soon  as  Vicente  comes  in." 

"When  will  Vicente  come  in?"  I  inquired. 

"  When  they  get  through  hanging  that  fellow,"  said  he. 

" What  fellow?"  said  I. 

"Oh  !"  said  he.  "the  Injuns  have  began  to  learn  the  white 

man's  tricks.     By !  "  said  he  with  a  laugh,  "  look  !    Isn't 

that  rich?" 

While  thus  conversing  my  attention  was  drawn  up  the  road 
some  200  yards  to  the  west,  to  a  large .  crowd  of  Mexicans  and 
Indians,  men,  women  and  children,  on  foot  and  on  horseback, 
and  when  Roy  laughed  and  said  "Isn't  that  rich?"  I  saw  a 
man  go  directly  upward  to  the  limb  of  a  tree  and  there  remain 
until  an  hour  later,  when,  with  a  feeling  in  strange  contrast 
with  the  exhilaration  felt  on  approaching  the  pleasant  looking 
place,  I  took  my  departure  without  getting  the  feed  of  barley 
for  my  gallant  little  charger.  After  crossing  the  arroyo,  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  93 

being  about  a  half  mile  away,  I  halted,  turned  my  horse's 
head,  and  there  still  hung  the  poor  victim  dangling  in  the  air. 
At  the  same  time  there  went  up  a  wail  of  despair,  as  though 
from  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the  murdered  Indian.  When 
Roy  said  "  Isn't  that  rich  ?  "  he  concluded  with  :  "  Watch  my 
front  door  and  see  that  no  d — d  thief  steals  my  whisky,"  and 
without  another  word  hastily  mounted  his  horse  and  dashed  off 
to  the  place  of  execution,  evidently  intent  on  more  readily 
drinking  in  the  rapture  of  the  occasion.  During  the  hour 
I  spent  at  that  happy  place,  I  learned  the  reason  of  the  hang- 
ing of  the  poor  Indian. 

At  the  time  there  were  three  great  grog-shops  at  the 
Mission  ;  all  kept  by  Americans  ;  all  doing  a  smashing  busi- 
ness, especially  on  Sundays,  when  from  early  dawn  till  late  at 
night  these  devil's  workshops  would  be  surrounded  by  a  mass  of 
drunken,  howling  Indians.  About  sundown  the  smashing 
business  would  begin  in  good  earnest ;  that  is  to  say,  these 
gentle  aboriginal  Christians  would  commence  to  smash  in  each 
other's  skulls.  Now  you  see  the  kind  of  a  "  smashing  "  busi- 
ness carried  on  by  our  three  honorable  contrymen  in  addition 
to  getting  the  Indian's  coin. 

The  "Headquarters,"  the  most  aristocratic  of  the  three 
grog-shops,  was  situated  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  then 
great  Mission  building  ;  the  sign  was  painted  in  large  black 
letters  on  the  clean  whitewashed  front  of  the  building.  The 
place  was  certainly  the  "Headquarters"  of  all  the  lazzaroni 
of  the  country.  Judging  from  the  crowd  of  vagabonds  who 
put  in  an  immediate  appearance  after  the  summary  disposition 
of  the  Indian,  Roy's  head  was  quite  level  when  he  said  "  the 
d — d  thieves  will  steal  my  whisky." 

Why  the  place  was  called  "Headquarters"  I/ailed  to  learn, 
but  most  probably  the  reason  was  as  before  stated,  or  perhaps 
because  it  was  such  a  famous  place  for  splitting  and  quartering 
heads,  a  pastime  that  the  elevated  Indian,  whose  obituary  I 


94  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

must  now  attend  to,  had  been  engaged  in  ;  that  is  to  say,  he 
quartered  the  head  of  a  fellow  aboriginee  at  the  "  Headquar- 
ters "  on  the  previous  night,  was  placed  in  durance,  and  forth- 
with, on  the  following  morning,  carried  before  His  Honor  Judge 
Dennison,  a  "  duly  elected  and  qualified  Justice  of  the  Peace/' 
and  Associate  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Sessions  of  the  county. 
The  Judge  held  his  Court  at  the  grog-shop  of  Frank  Carroll, 
who  hung  out  in  the  beautiful  cottage  residence  of  one  of  the 
Mission  Fathers,  situated  in  the  Old  Mission  orange  grove. 
Frank,  with  that  remarkable  spirit  of  enterprise  which  charac- 
terized many  of  our  early  settlers,  had  jumped  the  Fathers'  cot- 
tage, and  there  fixed  his  pioneer  roof-tree  and  hung  out  his 
sign,  and  dispensed  the  invigorating  fluid  to  both  man  and 
beast. 

The  Judge,  who  was  more  towering  in  his  ambition,  jumped 
the  orange  grove,  and  became  the  original  shipper  of  the  golden 
fruit  to  the  San  Francisco  market.  The  Judge  was  engaged 
in  a  quiet  game  of  "old  sledge"  with  one  of  Frank's  custom- 
ers, tor  the  morning  nips,  when  the  Indian  was  brought  into 
Court.  He  very  gravely  laid  down  his  hand  and  inquired  what 
the  matter  was.  When  informed  of  the  nature  of  the  offence 
he  picked  up  his  cards,  sipped  his  cocktail,  and  remarked  in 
Spanish  :  "Well,  you  had  better  take  him  out  and  hang  him," 
and  then  continued  his  game  without  further  interruption ;  and 
the  sentence  of  the  Court  was  carried  into  immediate  execution, 
.as  before  shown. 

The  Mission  is  a  classic  spot,  and  well  it  may  be.  Classical 
writers  have  written,  and  become  enthusiastic  in  writing,  about 
the  old  crumbling  adobe  walls.  One  of  the  more  inspired,  in 
referring  to  the  old  church  and  the  churchyard,  uses  the  follow- 
ing language,  drawing  on  Longfellow  for  help  : 

"  Lingering  around  the  charmed  precincts  of  this  venerable 
pile  (meaning  the  church),  my  footsteps  led  me  unconsciously 
to  that  portion  of  the  grounds  set  apart  as  the  City  of  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  95 

Dead.  Here,  among  these  unmarked  graves,  might  Evangeline 
have  come,  if  her  long  wanderings  had  led  her  to  this,  as  they 
did  to  the  '  Mission  of  the  Black  Robes,'  where  her  Gabriel 
was  to  her  so  near  and  yet  so  far." 

The  writer  assumes  that  Evangeline  didn't  come,  and  if  her 
Gabriel  had  been  laid  away  in  that  old  graveyard,  then  Gabriel 
would  have  been  in  the  extreme  of  bad  luck,  and  the  writer 
feels  confident  that  the  reader  will  readily  agree  with  him  that 
if  Evangeline  had  been  stationed  at  the  "  venerable  pile "  as  a 
military  outlook  for  a  month  or  two,  as  was  the  writer,  and  had 
observed  the- tolling  of  the  Mission  bells  at  each  consecutive 
funeral,  and  had  observed  the  maneuvers  of  the  interesting  Mis- 
sion squirrels  that  burrowed  in  the  protecting  artificial  mounds 
formed  by  the  crumbling  walls,  the  squirrels  coming  in  greedy 
haste  at  the  doleful  summons  of  the  tolling  Mission  bells,  Evan- 
geline would  have  wished  her  Gabriel  in  a  more  secure  and  less 
frequented  place. 

Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  writer,  in  his  early  military 
career  in  the  summer  of  1853,  was  stationed  at  the  "venerable 
pile"  as  a  Hanger  Scout,  a  sort  of  an  individual  corps  of  obser- 
vation, and  while  one  day  sauntering  around  the  City  of  the 
Dead,  making  observations  and  taking  notes  in  his  mind,  his 
attention  was  arrested  by  the  deep  tolling  of  the  Mission  bells, 
which  gave  notice  of  the  commencement  of  the  journey  of  some 
departed  spirit  to  the  unknown  bourne.  The  young  military 
observer  halted,  sat  his  carbine  against  the  old  crumbling  wall 
of  the  churchyard,  and  with  grave  demeanor  awaited  the  coming 
funeral. 

"D-o-n-g,  d-o-n-g,  d-o-n-g,"  went  the  Mission  bells. 

"  Chirp,  chirp,  chirp,  rippity-skip,"  came  a  troupe  of  Mission 
•squirrels.  In  a  moment  the  wall  was  covered  with  them,  all 
sitting  as  erect  as  a  Sergeant-Major  at  guard-mount — their 
little  thumbs  on  the  ends  of  their  little  noses,  while  their  little 
fingers  would  seem  to  girate  in  a  derisive  and  playful  manner 


96  REMINISCENCES    OB'    A    BANGER. 

at  the  venerable  old  coffee-colored  sexton,  who  thoughtfully 
leaned  on  his  ancient  spade  beside  the  new-made  grave. 

This  grave  historian  was  lost  in  thought.  "  T-o-1-1 ;  t-o-1-1: 
t-o-1-1,"  went  the  Mission  bells.  "  Chatter,  chatter,  chatter," 
sang  the  happy  and  expectant  Mission  squirrels. 

The  funeral  procession  arrived,  each  mourner  in  line,  armed 
with  a  burning  tallow  candle.  The  solemn  services  of  the 
church  were  soon  at  an  end.  The  sepulchral  sound  of  the  earth 
being  thrown  into  the  grave,  the  "  t-o-1-1,  t-o-1-1,  t-o-1-1,"  of 
the  Mission  bells,  the  mournful  wail  of  the  near  relatives  of  the 
departed  soul,  the  happy  "chirp,  chirp,  chatter,  chatter,  chat- 
ter." of  the  triumphant  Mission  squirrels,  and  the  sorrowful 
procession  filed  away  from  the  grave  and  departed. 

When  the  Mission  bells  ceased  their  tolling,  the  happy 
Mission  squirrels  galloped  around  the  old  wall,  frisking  and 
chattering  apparently  to  each  other  with  a  seeming  human 
intelligence. 

The  Mission  squirrel  smiles  as  he  listeus, 

To  the  sound  that  grows  apace; 
Well  lie  knows  of  the  funeral  coining, 

By  the  toll  of  the  bells  in  the  holy  place. 

When  all  was  silent  as  a  grave-yard,  except  the  chattering 
squirrels,  the  young  Ranger  entered,  and.  approaching  the 
sombre  old  sexton,  respectfully  inquired  if  the  squirrels  always 
came  to  the  funerals. 

"  Si,  seuor,  siempre  "  (yes,  sir,  always),  said  he. 

"  How  is  it  ?  "  said  the  Ranger.     "  Why  do  they  come  ?  " 

"  Quien  sabe,"  said  the  old  grave-digger,  "  estos  animalitos 
son  muy  inteligentes."  (These  little  fellows  are  very  intelli- 
gent.) 

•'  Do  they  come  at  vesper  ringing  ?  "  inquired  the  Ranger. 

"  Nunca,"  said  the  grave-digger,  "  y  porque  ?  "  (Never,  and 
why  should  they  ?) 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  97 

"  Do  they  come  when  the  happy  ringing  calls  the  pious  to 
mass  ?  "  asked  the  Hanger. 

"  Never,"  said  the  Sexton.  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  they  were 
intelligent  animals?" 

"And  they  only  come  to  funerals  then,"  once  more  ventured 
the  Ranger. 

"They  only  come  to  the  funerals,"  said  the  serious  Sexton  as 
he  shouldered  his  shovel,  and  with  grave  and  measured  tread 
left  the  graveyard. 

This  most  truthful  historian  solemnly  asseverates  that  such 
was  really  the  case  ;  that  those  Mission  bells  might  ring  all 
day,  as  they  frequently  did  on  joyous  occasions,  without  dis- 
turbing the  equanimity  of  a  single  squirrel:  But  just  let  the 
bell  give  one  "  t-o-1-1,"  and  the  scene  that  has  been  depicted 
would  invariably  be  repeated. 

Surely  the  old  Sexton  spoke  the  truth  when  he  said,  "  these 
little  fellows  are  very  intelligent."  Their  intelligence  seemed 
almost  cannibal. 

Now,  does  the  reader  for  one  moment  suppose  that  if 
"Evangeline"  had  come  and  witnessed  such  a  funeral  as  the 
one  seen  by  the  Ranger,  she  might,  in  the  solemn  hush  of  even- 
tide, have 

"  Sat  by  some  nameless  grave, 

And  thought  that  perhaps  in  its  bosom 
He  was  already  at  rest, 

A.nd  longed  to  slumber  beside  him." 

Evangeline  would  not  by  any  manner  of  means  have  been  so 
stupid.  She  would  have  been  frightened  away  by  the  squirrels. 

Poets  have  exhausted  their  fire  about  the  Mission  bells,  but 
it  has  been  left  to  this  humble  military  scribe  to  attempt  to  do 
justice  to  the  remarkable  intelligence  of  those  Mission  squirrels. 

The  writer,  in  pursuing  the  direct  road  of  veracity,  will  not 
scruple  in  tearing  off  masks  and  fancy  dresses,  when  presented 

in  disguise,  for  the  benefit  of  posterity,  arid  will  venture  only  so 

7 


98  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

far  as  he  can  have  the  assistance  of  the  bull's-eye  of  truth,  and 
will  in  his  truthful  narration  always  neglect  the  will-o'-the-wisp 
of  mere  romance. 

The  classical  writer  of  "  Semi-Tropical  California,"  who 
made  us  all  rich  with  the  flourish  of  his  pen,  goes  on  in  raptur- 
ous musings  in  laudation  of  the  "  venerable  pile,"  and  says  : 
"  But  it  is  time  these  musings  had  an  end.  It  is  vesper  hour. 
Long,  long  years  ago,  grandees  and  high-born  dames,  men  and 
women  in  middle  rank  in  life,  and  peasants,  some  bowed  with 
age,  and  children  of  tender  years,  stood  round  a  seething  fur- 
nace in  Old  Spain.  Ornaments  of  gold  and  silver  were  flung 
into  the  fiery  mass.  Anon  a  chime  of  bells  came  from  the 
master's  hand.  With  prayer  and  chant  and  benediction,  they 
were  given  to  the  keeping  of  a  galleon,  bound  for  this  far-off 
land.  Propitious  winds  bore  them  in  safety  to  the  old  embar- 
cadero  of  the  Mission  of  San  Gabriel.  For  many  and  many  a 
year  the  bells  have  flung  their  silvery  music  on  the  evening 
air." 

How  very  romantic  all  this  would  be,  were  it  not  masked  'in 
the  thinnest  gauze. 

The  writer  visited  Panama  in  1856,  and  the  first  thing  shown 
him  by  an  enthusiastic  Panameno  was  one  of  Harper's  Month- 
lies, which  gave  the  same  account  of  the  origin  of  the  "  bells 
of  Panama,"  and  the  same  story  is  repeated  as  to  every  bell  in 
Spanish  America,  especially  if  written  about  by  adventurous 
American  newspaper  romancers.  If  not  romance,  but  fact, 
then  the  "grandees,"  "dames,"  and  "men  and  women  in  mid- 
dle rank  of  life,"  and  "peasants,"  must  have  had  immense 
superfluity  of  gold  and  silver  ornaments.  I  do  remember,  how- 
ever, that  in  1855  there  was  a  great  earthquake,  that  shook  the 
Mission  bells  so  hard  that  their  ancient  rawhide  fastenings  gave 
way,  and  some  of  the  bells  came  down  with  a  crash. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  99 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  Grand  Character — An  Old-tiine  Election  in  Los  Angeles — Capturing 
Voters,  the  Modus  Operand! — Disguising  Sovereigns— Old  Payuche — 
History  Repeats  Itself — The  Registrar  of  the  Land  Office  Dines  Off  the 
Nose  of  the  U.  8.  District  Attorney — The  Judge  and  the  Pet  Deer — 
Lafayette  Cotton  and  the  Register — An  Overdose  of  Buckshot. 


reader  is  now  brought  to  May,  1853,  and  all  of 
the  important  transactions  occurring  from  the  time 
the  writer  arrived  up  to  that  date  have  been  gen- 
erally referred  to,  with  all  important  digressions.  It  was  the 
intention  of  this  very  impartial  chronicler  to  mention  several 
great  local  historical  characters  before  touching  on  any  other 
great  events.  One  character,  whose  acquaintance  the  writer 
made  about  a  month  after  his.  arrival,  has  been  intentionally 
postponed  from  time  to  time,  for  the  reason  that  so  far  he 
felt  his  utter  inability  to  do  justice  to  the  greatest  and  most 
sublime  character,  possibly,  the  world  has  ever  known — cer- 
tainly the  grandest  genius  the  author  has  ever  had  the  honor 
of  knowing,  and  he  has  known  and  stood  in  the  presence 
of  many  eminent  characters,  even  royalty;  that  is  to  say, 
this  humble  subscriber  has  stood  in  the  presence  of,  sat  in  the 
palace  with,  and  drank  unadulterated  rum  out  of  the  same 
calabash  with  His  Royal  Majesty  George  Frederick  Clarence, 
the  great  ruler  of  the  Mosquito  Kingdom,  and  the  favorite 
protege  of  the  Imperial  Victoria.  The  reader  can  now  readily 
perceive  that  the  author  has  been  a  person  of  great  conse- 
quence, and  will  wonder  that  any  Republican  American  could 
have  survived  so  much  honor. 


100  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

The  writer  reiterates  that  he  has  associated  on  terms  of 
easy  familiarity  with  many  great  and  illustrious  persons, 
extending  all  the  way  from  the  Mosquito  King  to  Round- 
House  George,  'but  never  felt  his  utter  insignificance  as  an 
individual  until  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  great  Angel 
of  this  angelic  town,  a  man  greatest  among  the  great,  one 
who  carved  his  name  on  the  history  of  every  country  he 
ever  honored  with  his  presence,  extending  all  the  way  from 
the  white  cliffs  of  Albion  to  the  piratical  Soo  Loo  Archie- 
pelpgo. 

Now  does  the  reader  wonder  that  this  timid  writer  has  so 
long  hesitated,  and  still  hesitates  to  even  attempt  to  give  to 
the  world  the  history  of  one  so  illustrious.  Such  a  person 
actually  dwells  among  us  mundane  angels,  and  the  author  will 
devote  one  whole  future  chapter  in  giving  to  posterity  a  true 
biography  of  this  world-renowned  angel,  and  will  now  proceed 
to  inform  the  reader  of  the  way,  form  and  style  of  an  ancient 
and  original  municipal  election  in  the  city  of  angels. 

Los  Angeles  polled  a  very  great  vote  in  the  happy  times  of 
pioneer  elections.  \Vith  her  population  of  5,000,  a  greater 
number  of  votes  were  deposited  in  the  ballot-boxes  than  at 
present,  with  our  four  times  greater  number  of  noses,  and  it 
will  now  be  the  duty  of  the  writer  to  attempt  to  explain  the 
modus  operandi  of  getting  four  or  five  votes  out  of  each  sov- 
ereign voter. 

May  Day  election  arrived.  The  sun  of  Austerlitz  rose  in  all 
the  splendor  only  known  to  this  sunny  clime.  Before  he  cast 
his  first  glittering  rays  on  "Gallows  Hill,"  so  styled  at  the  time  by 
some  profane  people,  the  whole  population  seemed  thoroughly 
aroused  to  the  importance  of  the  great  event.  Anxious  look- 
ing individuals  could  he  seen  with  pockets  full  of  tickets,  hurry- 
ing towards  the  plaza,  the  nigger-alley  corner  of  which  was  the 
polling  place.  By  8  o'clock  A.  M.  several  old  army  ambulances, 
ablaze  with  banners  bearing  the  name  of  some  candidate,  com- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  101 

menced  driving  up  and  down  the  principal  streets  at  a  furious 
pace,  while  one  immense  wagon  with  a  full  band  of  Mexican 
circus  performers,  drove  up  and  down  the  streets  with  a  regular 
force  of  skirmishers  and  flankers  thrown  out,  capturing  and 
bringing  in  to  the  great  wagon  American  citizens  to  be  used  as 
stepping  stones  to  the  fortune  of  some  aspiring  local  politician. 
When  the  wagon  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity  the  music 
would  cease,  and  the  great  vehicle  would  be  driven  in  all  haste 
to  the  polls,  and  the  captured  sovereigns  would  be  taken  out 
and  marched  up  to  the  ballot-box,  and  after  an  immense  amount 
of  skirmishing  and  squabbling,  for  be  it  known  they  were  not 
quietly  permitted  to  vote,  as  the  friends  and  strikers  of  opposing 
candidates  made  every  possible  effort  to  change  the  ticket  on 
the  voters  as  they  stood  in  line  waiting  their  turn.  The  duties 
of  American  citizenship  were  finally  discharged,  and  one  might 
suppose  the  victims  were  quietly  permitted  to  depart.  Not  so, 
however,  they  were  immediately  taken  in  charge  by  another 
detachment  of  the  candidates  who  had  first  made  the  capture 
and  duly  marched  off,  for  what  purpose,  of  where,  only  the 
initiated  at  that  time  could  know.  In  a  brief  space  of  time,  how- 
ever, the  same  crowd  would  return  to  the  polls,  and  for  the 
second  time  duly  discharge  the  duties  of  freemen,  and  will 
the  writer's  veracity  be  questioned  when  he  asseverates  that 
this  herd  of  captured  voters  would  be  voted  at  least  five  times 
during  the  day,  and  every  one  of  them  would  in  all  probability 
be  Mexican,  and  frequently  aboriginal  Indians,  and  in  no  wise 
entitled  to  vote. 

The  modus  was  in  this  wise  :  After  voting  the  first  time, 
which  would  be  under  gentle  pressure,  they  would  be  taken  to 
an  improvised  barber-shop,  and  their  long  hair  cropped  and 
being  otherwise  disguised,  and  then  returned  to  the  polls  and 
voted  under  an  assumed  name  ;  they  would  then  return  to  the 
shaving  place  and  go  through  another  operation,  and  a  possible 
whitewashing,  another  name  would  be  given  the  citizen,  also 

r 


102  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

another  drink  and  another  dollar,  and  another  vote  would  be 
polled  for  some  enterprising  candidate.  Voting  in  early  times 
used  to  be  a  lucrative  business,  and  voters  were  considered  valu- 
able according  to  the  facility  offered  for  disguising  one's  self. 
Old  Payuclie,  who  at  this  day  honors  our  chain-gang  with  his 
valuable  services,  used  to  be  (as  I  am  informed  by  an  old  poli- 
tician, who  is  yet  in  the  harness)  disguised  and  voted  five  times 
at  each  successive  election.  Times  have  materially  changed  ; 
at  the  present  time  the  voters  shave  the  candidates,  in  place  of 
being  shaved,  as  in  the  happy  times  long  gone  by. 

Peter  Biggs  was  in  his  glory  on  that  election  day.  His  shop 
and  its  various  branches  were  crowded  all  day. 

It  was  astonishing  the  amount  of  silver  in  circulation  on  that 
day.  Mexican  dollars  were  as  abundant  as  $50  slugs,  and 
more  so,  a  dollar  being  the  price  of  a  vote.  The  reader  will  at 
once  inquire,  as  did  the  innocent  chronicler  at  the  time,  why  so 
nyich  strife,  so  much  manoeuvring,  such  an  expenditure  of  cash, 
when  the  annual  salary  of  the  Mayor,  who  was  at  the  head  of 
the  ticket,  was  only  $500.  The  Councilmen  drew  no  pay,  the 
Marshal's  perquisites  were  small ;  the  Assessor  also  got  $500. 
The  explanation  is  that  this  angelic  city  had  a  grand  domain 
to  be  disposed  of,  the  foundation  of  future  jobs,  and  land  opera- 
tions were  to  be  planned  and  fixed  up  with  a  view  to  future 
profit,  and  that  was  why  such  stupendous  efforts  were  made  to 
carry  the  election  in  May,  1853.  It  is  not  necessary  to  inform 
the  reader  what  gentlemen  were  honored  with  the  people's 
preference  on  that  memorable  day,  only,  as  before  stated,  the 
gay  and  festive  hangman  was  elected  Marshal,  and  the  people 
raised  Old  Nick  on  that  occasion.  They  set  a  bad  precedent, 
that  has  been  improved  and  refined,  until  at  this  day  we  have 
the  most  skilfully  managed  elections  that  could  be  imagined 
outside  the  infernal  regions. 

That  "history  repeats  itself"  is  an  undisputed  truism. 
That  "virtue  hath  its  own  reward"  is  a  maxim  even  older 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  103 

than  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanac."  That  "  punishment  is  sure 
to  follow  the  wrong  doer,"  we  have  all  had  ample  experience. 
Then,  to  be  brief  and  to  the  point,  let  me  inform  the  reader 
that  the  same  horrible  punishment  inflicted  on  the  unfortunate 
Marshal  by  the  infuriated  Attorney,  heretofore  referred  to 
as  having  occurred  at  Madame  Barriere's,  at  the  time  the 
bar  went  on  a  bust,  was  inflicted  on  the  great  Federal  legal 
light,  by  the  enlightened  and  highly  civilized  gentleman  who 
did  such  wonderful  honor  to  the  best  government  in  the 
sinecure  position  of  Registrar  of  the  United  States  Land  Office. 
Sinecure,  I  say,  because  the  officers  were  appointed  before 
the  land  was  even  surveyed.  That  is  to  say,  the  two  dig- 
nitaries were  quietly  supping  together  in  one  of  the  tack  rooms 
of  the  "  Montgomery,"  when  the  pioneer  legal  representative  of 
the  Government  emptied  a  plate  of  soup  full  in  the  face  of  the 
Land  Office  man,  who,  not  in  the  least  disturbed  in  his 
cool  equanimity,  quietly  proctteded  to  lay  the  attorney  across 
the  table  and  deliberately  bite  off  about  an  inch  of  that 
great  Federal  nose.  Unfortunately  for  the  dignity  of  the 
Government,  the  amateur  surgeon  who  stitched  on  that  nose 
made  a  nice  graft  of  it,  only  he  put  it  on  upside  down, 
which  made  it  seem  as  though  the  Government  man  was 
always  turning  up  his  nose  at  more  humble  persons,  while  the 
fact  was  that  the  attorney  was  one  of  the  most  democratic 
of  mankind,  and  would  drink  often  and  always  with  whom- 
soever invited  him,  though  of  high  or  of  low  degree. 

One  more  memorable  incident  in  the  official  career  of  the 
Attorney  and  he  will  be  consigned  to  the  affectionate  memory 
of  the  few  who  honored  him  as  a  very  good  fellow,  as  well  as  a 
first-class  pensioner  on  a  first-class  and  benevolent  Government. 

The  Judge  who  had  been  raised  to  the  Federal  Bench,  and 
Gitchell,  who  had  succeeded  him  as  U.  S.  District  Attorney, 
started  one  morning  on  a  buggy  ride,  and  the  Judge  bethought 
himself  that  it  would  be  a  pious  idea  to  go  by  the  old  brewery 


104  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

and  take  a  few  drinks  of  gratuitous  beer.  So  Gitchell  held  the 
horse  while  the  Judge  went  in  the  back  way  to  the  beer  bar- 
rels. All  at  once  Gitchell  heard  a  terrible  roar  from  the  Judge, 
then,  "Oh,  Lord,  Gitchell !  Gitchell,  come  quick!  Oh!,  Git- 
chell, d — n  it,  corne;  hurry,  quick!" 

Gitchell's  horse  was  somewhat  restive,  and  Gitchell  made 
haste  slowly,  notwithstanding  the  Judge's  "Gitchell !  Gitchell! 
quick!  Hell  and  fury,  Gitchell,  come  quick  !  Come  faster, 
faster,"  and  even  more  emphatic  exhortations. 

Gitchell  was  a  long  time  in  reaching  the  Judge.  Imagine, 
therefore,  his  surprise  on  entering  the  back  yard  of  the  brewery 
to  find  the  Judge  engaged  in  mortal  combat,  gasping  for  breath, 
with  his  head  down,  his  lacerated  posterior  well  elevated, 
thoroughly  braced,  with  his  brawny  arms  thrust  forward  and 
every  nerve  strained  in  an  almost  vain  endeavor  to  hold  at  bay 
a  furious  antlered  buck.  As  soon  as  he  became  aware  that 
Gitchell  had  arrived,  he  roared  out  "Kill  this  d — d  thing! " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Gitchell ;  "  it's  a  pet  Confound  it,  Judge, 
let  the  deer  go;  what  in  the  name  of  all  that's  ridiculous  are 
you  doing?  Let  it  go  !  " 

"  Blazes  !  "  said  the  Judge,  "  I  did  let  it  go  once,  and  it  tore 
me  all  to  pieces." 

Gitchell  was  undecided,  and  of  all  the  infernal  traits,  inde- 
cision is  the  most  infernal.  Through  his  indecision  the  buck 
gained  a  great  advantage  over  the  Judge,  and  forced  him  back- 
ward into  a  steaming  mass  of  refuse  hops;  but  the  Judge,  out  of 
breath,  blown  and  exhausted,  held  on  to  the  antlers  with  the 
tenacity  of  a  snapping-turtle.  However,  the  deer  got  the 
Judge  down  in  that  steaming  mass  of  softness. 

The  Judge  gasped  out :  "  Oh !  for  God's  sake,  Gitchell, 
break  its  back.  When  I  let  it  go  it  will  kill  me." 

"  Why,"  says  Gitchell,  without  the  least  excitement,  and 
seemingly  gratified  at  so  much  dignity  in  such  au  undignified 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  105 

position,  "why,  don't  you  see  I  have  nothing  to  break  its  back 
with  ?     Had  I  better  go  for  the  Marshal  ?  " 

By  this  time,  to  the  great  relief  of  the  Judge,  a  valiant  sub- 
ject of  King  Gambrinus  put  in  an  appearance,  and  drew  off  the 
enemy.  The  Judge  was  utterly  vanquished.  A  bran  new  suit 
of  clothes  was  ruined,  especially  the  pants.  The  Judge  was  so 
badly  injured  that  he  could  neither  ride  in  a  buggy  nor  take  a 
seat  at  the  table,  or  anywhere  else,  for  a  month,  every  day  of 
which  time  he  begged  Gitchell  to  say  nothing  about  it.  Every 
day  Gitchell  promised,  and  every  day  the  town  nearly  burst  its 
sides  with  laughter.  Gitchell  never  told.  The  Gambrinus 
man  kept  mum,  but  that  ferocious  encounter  between  the 
Judge  and  the  pet  deer  has  found  its  way  into  history. 

The  Registrar  of  the  Land  Office — only,  as  before  stated, 
there  was  no  Land  Office — was  an  out-and-out  man-of-war. 
He  could  wield  a  bowie ;  was  quick  on  the  draw ;  struck 
square  out  from  the  shoulder,  and  could  gouge  out  an  eye,  or 
bite  off  a  nose,  in  such  a  style  and  manner  as  would  excite  the 
envy  of  the  most  fastidious  backwoods  fighter,  and  withal  was 
a  man  of  remarkable  coolness,  as  might  be  inferred  from  his 
taking  the  anointed  nose  of  Government  without  pepper  or 
salt.  As  an  instance  of  his  coolness  and  nerve  I  will  relate  the 
following  incident : 

Lafayette  Cotton  was  a  first-class  gambler,  as  well  as  an 
eminent  fighting  man.  Lafayette  married  a  native-born  damsel 
of  lascivious  mien  and  voluptuous  proportions,  and  became 
jealous  of  the  stalwart  Registrar,  who  was  very  amorously  in- 
clined. Lafayette,  armed  to  the  teeth,  found  the  Registrar  at 
the  '•''  Montgomery,"  quietly  engaged  in  billiards.  Lafayette, 
greatly  excited,  entered  with  revolver  in  hand. 

"Get  out  of  the  way;  I'm  going  to  shoot!  Draw  and 
defend  yourself!"  said  he,  rushing  up  to  the  Registrar,  who 
was  just  bridging  his  cue  for  a  good  shot. 


106  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Without  the  least  discomposure,  or  diverting  his  mind  from 
the  game — without  as  much  as  turning  his  head — he  said : 

"  Oh,  go  away,  and  don't  bother  this  game ! " 

The  cool  audacity  of  the  man  had  such  a  remarkable  effect 
on  the  would-be  murderer,  that  he  moodily  slunk  out  of  the 
room  and  put  up  his  revolver,  remarking  :  "  The  man  must  be 
either  crazy  or  a  fool." 

The  Registrar  was  the  hero  of  that  day,  while  Cotton  closed 
his  bank  for  nearly  a  month. 

The  Registrar  was  a  most  remarkable  gentleman,  and  the 
chronicler  hopes  his  veracity  will  not  be  questioned  when  he 
assures  the  reader  that  it  took  two  handsful  of  buckshot, 
fired  from  a  double-barreled  gun,  to  kill  that  remarkable 
character,  for  such  was  his  taking  off. 

In  relation  to  these  important  transactions,  the  author 
desires  to  say  that  they  occurred  along  toward  the  latter  part 
of  the  summer  of  '53,  and  are  somewhat  out  of  place,  as 
well  as  in  advance  of  still  more  important  incidents  yet  to  be 
related. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  107 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Joaquin  Marietta  and  His  Desperate  Doings — A  Reign  of  Terror — The 
Rangers — Captain  Hope  and  Others — The  Twin  Brothers,  Green  and 
Wiley  Marshall — Green's  Adventures  in  Arizona — Death  of  the  Two 
Brothers. 


STATED  in  the  beginning  of  this  history,  on  the 
arrest  and  confession  of  Keyes  Feliz,  Joaquin  Murietta, 
his  brother-in-law,  who  had  for  one  or  two  years  been 
domiciled  among  the  angels,  decamped,  and  was  not  heard  of 
until  the  spring  of  1853,  when  he  commenced  a  succession 
of  bold  and  successful  operations  in  the  southern  mines, 
beginning  at  San  Andres,  in  Calaveras  County.  His  acts 
were  so  bold  and  daring,  and  attended  with  such  remarkable 
success,  that  he  drew  to  him  all  the  Mexican  outlaws, 
cut-throats  and  thieves  that  infested  the  country  extending 
from  San  Diego  to  Stockton.  !Nb  one  will  deny  the  assertion 
•that  Joaquin  in  his  organizations,  and  the  successful  ramifica- 
tions of  his  various  bands,  his  eluding  capture,  the  secret 
intelligence  conveyed  from  points  remote  from  each  other, 
manifested  a  degree  of  executive  ability  and  genius  that  well 
fitted  him  for  a  more  honorable  position  than  that  of  chief  of 
a  band  of  robbers.  In  any  country  in  America  except  the 
United  States,  the  bold  defiance  of  the  power  of  the  govern- 
ment, a  half  year's  successful  resistance,  a.  continuous  con-' 
flict  with  the  military  and  civil  authorities  and  the  armed 
populace — the  writer  repeats  that  in  any  other  country  in 
America  other  than  the  United  States — the  operations  of 
Joaquin  Marietta  would  have  been  dignified  by  the  title 


108  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER 

of  revolution,  and  the  leader  with  that  of  rebel  chief.  For 
there  is  little  doubt  in  the  writer's  mind  that  Joaquin's  aims 
were  higher  than  that  of  mere  revenge  and  pillage.  Educated 
in  the  school  of  revolution  in  his  own  country,  where  the  line 
of  demarkation  between  rebel  and  robber,  pillager  and  patriot, 
was  dimly  defined,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  Joaquin  felt 
himself  to  be  more  the  champion  of  his  countrymen  than  an 
outlaw  and  an  enemy  to  the  human  race. 

About  the  first  of  March  depredating  commenced  in  Cala- 
veras  County,  by  the  murder  and  robbery  of  teamsters  and 
traveling  miners.  In  April,  emboldened  by  success,  trading 
posts  and  mining  camps  were,  raided  and  robbed  ;  stages  were 
captured,  the  passengers  pillaged  and  murdered,  and  a  vessel 
plying  on  the  San  Joaquin  River  was  taken  and  stripped  in 
open  daylight. 

By  the  middle  of  May  the  whole  country  from  Stockton  and 
San  Jose  to  Los  Angeles,  a  distance  of  500  miles,  was  in  arms  ; 
murder  and  rapine  were  the  order  of  the  day  ;  the  bandits 
seemed  to  be  everywhere,  and  to  strike  when  and  where  least 
expected.  About  the  first  of  June  two  companies  of  Rangers 
were  raised,  one  in  Calaveras,  under  Captain  Harry  Love,  and 
one  in  Los  Angeles,  commanded  by  Captain  Alexander  Hope,  a 
bold  spirit,  in  every  way  qualified  by  nature  and  experience  to 
grapple  with  the  desperate  characters  who  held  the  country 
absolutely  at  their  mercy,  laughed  at  the  officers  of  the  law 
and  bade  defiance  to  the  civil  government. 

To  show  the  value  of  our  company  and  our  appreciation,  I 
am  permitted  to  make  the  following  extract  from  Colonel  John 
O.  Wheeler's  great  newspaper  of  the  day,  "  The  Southern  Cali- 
fornian,"  of  date  October '54.  . 

"  Los  ANGELES  RANGERS. — In  our  last  week's  issue  we 
regret  to  say  that  we  neglected  to  notice  the  active  and  prompt 
assistance  rendered  by  the  Los  Angeles  Rangers  in  assisting  in 
the  arrest  of  some  of  the  most  dangerous  desperadoes  in  this 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  109 

county,  and  who  are,  no  doubt,  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  brutal  murder  of  Mr.  Ellington,  of  the  Monte,  two  of  whom 
are  at  present  undergoing  examination  before  our  courts  of  jus- 
tice. Our  only  excuse  to  offer  to  the  Kangers  is,  that  the 
actions  of  this  company  are  so  prompt,  active  and  secret,  that 
in  almost  all  cases  the  company  is  out  on  scout,  returned,  and 
the  prisoner  arraigned,  before  our  citizens  are  aware  of  an  out- 
lage  having  been  committed  in  our  community.  Within  the 
last  few  days  parties  of  the  Rangers  have  been  scouring  the 
country  in  search  of  murderers  and  robbers  from  the  north,  who 
are  said  to  be  at  present  in  or  near  this  county,  and  so  far  have 
assisted  in  the  capture  of  some,  and  driven  others  across  our 
border  who  were  lurking  here  and  trying  to  escape  from 
justice. 

•'  We  are  proud  to  think  that  this  troop  has  the  full  confi- 
dence of  our  whole  community,  and  the  cry  is  on  all  such  occa- 
sions as  we  were  under  the  necessity  of  recording  last  week, 
'  Where  are  the  Rangers?'  In  all  of  their  excursions,  which 
have  been  many,  their  success,  as  our  records  in  court  will 
show,  have  been  indeed  wonderful.  Only  three  or  four  days  ago, 
on  the  arrival  of  a  Sheriff  from  the  north  in  search  of  a  mur- 
derer, two  parties  started  in  pursuit,  one  party  with  Under- 
SherifF  Hanniger,  after  a  band  of  horse  thieves  who  had  stolen 
some  horses  from  Hon.  A.  Stearns.  They  returned  successful 
with  both  the  thieves  and  horses,  and  the  other  remained  on 
scout  lentil  the  murderer  was  taken. 

"  Last  year  our  Legislature  made  a  small  appropriation  for 
the  use  of  this  efficient  troop,  part  of  which  has  been  spent  for 
forage  for  the  horses,  equipage,  and  for  necessary  expenses 
while  in  the  field,  leaving  a  balance  on  hand  in  the  keeping  of 
the  Treasurer  of  this  county,  which  will  be  used  for  similar 
purposes,  not  one  of  the  troop  having  received  one  cent  of 
recompense  for  their  services,  as  some  of  the  Rangers  in  the 
north  did. 

"We  again  say  that  we  are  proud  of  this  little  band,  and 
assert  that  this  company  at  the  present  time  can  vie,  under  the 
present  Captain,  with  any  company  in  this  State.  Our  citizens 
and  rancheros  have  formerly  contributed  to  the  support  of 
this  company,  and  we  hope  they  will  continue  to  do  so. 


MR.  EDITOR: — We  wish,  through  your  columns,  to  tender 

our  heartfelt  thanks  to   the   Los   Angeles   Rangers,   for   the 

prompt  assistance  rendered  by  that  efficient  corps  to  us,  in 

ferreting  out  the  murderers  of  the  unfortunate  Major  Ellington. 

Yours,  with  respect, 

THE  CITIZENS  OF  THE  MONTE. 


110  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

The  company  carried  100  names  on  its  rolls,  and  the 
author  hopes  that,  having  been  a  member  of  that  pioneer 
military  corps,  he  will  be  pardoned  for  the  assertion  that 
they  were  as  bold  a  band  as  ever  flashed  a  sabre  or  answered  to 
the  blast  of  a  bugle.  Alas !  few  of  that  gallant  troop  remain. 
Many  followed  the  fortunes  of  the  "gray-eyed  m?.n  of  destiny," 
and  their  bones  moulder  in  the  tropical  damps  of  Nicaragua. 
Others  fell  beneath  the  treacherous  blows  of  the  bloody 
Apache.  Others  were  traced  to  the  battlefields  of  the  great 
Rebellion. 

A  few  were  known  to  have  fallen  in  personal  broils.  Most 
of  them  died  in  the  saddle,  but  not  one  of  that  old  Ranger 
band  was  ever  known  to  find  his  way  ignominiously  to  the 
interior  of  a  prison,  and  the  few  that  remain  are  of  the  most 
honored  of  onr  citizens,  and  if  the  city  of  Los  Angeles  ever 
had  anything  to  be  proud  of,  it  was  her  heroic  Ranger 
defenders  who  rid  the  country  of  an  innumerable  horde  of 
freebooters  and  assassins,  who  threatened  a  war  of  utter  exter- 
mination on  the  comparatively  few  Americans  that  then  inhab- 
ited the  Southern  counties.  The  surviving  members  known  to 
be  alive  are  W.  W.  Jenkins,  D.  W.  Alexander,  Cyrus  Lyon, 
Capt.  J.  Q.  A.  Stanley,  Horace  Bell,  the  author  hereof,  all  of  Los 
Angeles  County  ;  George  McManus,  merchant  of  Chihuahua  ; 
Hon.  H.  N.  Alexander,  of  Arizona  Territory;  David  Brevoort,  of 
New  Mexico,  and  Montgomery  Martin,  of  Philadelphia,  the  col- 
league of  A.  P.  Crittenden,  they  being  the  first  Representative 
in  the  State  Legislature  from  Los  Angeles  County.  The 
author  wishes  to  say  that  in  using  the  word  "Mexican "he 
does  not  mean  the  native  California  rancheros,  who  generally 
co-operated  with  the  authorities  in  the  suppression  of  outlawry 
and  contributed  largely  to  the  support  of  the  Rangers. 

Among  the  most  liberal  of  the  supporters  of  the  Rangers 
were,  in. money,  Phineas  Banning;  in  horses,  Don  Pio  Pico,  the 
last  of  the  Mexican  Governors,  Don  Ygnacio  Del  Valle,  John 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  Ill 

Rowland  and  the  generous  Isaac  Williams,  of  Chino.  I 
remember  at  one  time  Seiior  Del  Valle  sent  in  one  hundred 
well  broken  horses  for  the  company  to  choose  from,  and  take 
them  all  if  they  suited. 

About  the  time  the  Rangers  took  the  field,  one  of  the  up- 
country  Sheriffs  came  to  Los  Angeles  in  search  of  some  particu- 
lar character,  and  on  one  beautiful  Sabbath  morning  he  was 
assassinated  in  the  street.  A  few  days^thereafter,  the  Marshal 
of  the  city,  the  one  who  succeeded  the  hangman,  was  stabbed 
to  the  heart  in  open  daylight,  by  one  Senati,  at  the  corner  of 
Los  Angeles  and  Aliso  streets.  More  will  be  said  of  Senati 
hereafter.  •  His  name  figures  in  one  of  the  most  bloody  chapters 
in  the  history  of  the  angels,  which  will  be  disposed  of  in  due 
time. 

Only  a  few  days  later  a  cattle  buyer,  on  his  way  to  the  city 
from  the  Dominguez  Rancho,  was  killed  and  robbed  by  one 
Manuel  Vergara,  whose  pursuit,  escape  and  subsequent  killing 
at  Yurna  will  be  also  related  at  the  proper  time.  Midnight 
raids  and  open  day  robbery  and  assassinations  of  defenseless  or 
unsuspecting  Americans  were  of  almost  daily  occurrence  in 
either  one  part  of  the  country  or  another,  at  the  time  the 
Rangers  took  the  field. 

We  had  two  brothers  in  the  company  who  are  worthy 
of  mention,  Green  and  Wiley  Marshall,  natives  of  Texas. 
Young  men  raised  on  the  frontier,  both  members  of  Captain 
Sam  Walker's  famous  Ranger  company  that  gained  such 
renown  in  the  war  with  Mexico.  They  were  twin  brothers, 
and  were  never  separated  but  twice  in  their  lives,  and  the 
second  time  was  the  last  on  earth.  If  separated  only  for  a  day 
they  seemed  lost.  A  kind  of  homesickness  would  overcome 
both  twin  brothers.  They  always  went  together  on  all  of 
our  expeditions,  riding  side  by  side.  They  were  recklessly 
brave  and  of  course  perfect  in  the  use  of  arms  and  expert  in 
horsemanship.  Generous  to  a  fault,  the  two  Marshall  boys 


112  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

were  great,  favorites  in  the  company.  They  were  the  beau 
ideal  of  the  American  frontier  Ranger.  In  the  spring  of  '50 
they  started  overland  from  Texas  to  California,  and  before  they 
fairly  got  beyond  the  settlements,  Wiley  was  taken  seriously 
ill,  so  much  so  that  after  halting  in  camp  for  several  days,  and 
Wiley  still  continuing  ill,  it  was  determined  that  the  company 
should  proceed  overland  and  that  the  sick  jnan  should  go  by 
easy  stages,  being  convalescent,  to  G-alveston,  thence  by  sea 
to  San  Francisco.  After  this  arrangement,  the  brothers  sep- 
arated for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  even  for  a  day. 

Wiley  arrived  in  San  Francisco  in  due  time,  and  after  the 
lapse  of  ninety  days  from  the  starting  overland  of  his  brother, 
and  no  tidings  (ninety  days  being  deemed  ample  time  for  the 
journey  to  San  Diego,  the  objective  point),  and  a  month  passed 
and  another  month.  Still  no  tidings,  and  Wiley  went  to  San 
Diego  and  anxiously  waited  another  month,  and  not  a  rumor  ot 
the  lost  company,  and  the  devoted  brother  mounted  a  horse, 
and  with  a  pack  mule  started  overland  alone  in  search  of  his 
missing  twin  brother. 

He  found  him  at  Tucson,  an  invalid,  emaciated  and  helpless, 
slowly  recovering  from  a  multiplicity  of  wounds,  any  one  of 
which  would  ordinarily  have  killed  a  person. 

Green  gave  the  following  statement  of  his  adventures,  which 
he  related  time  and  again  to  the  writer,  on  night  rides  and  in 
bivouac,  and  the  horrible  scars  visible  on  his  person  needed  no 
recital ;  they  spoke  for  themselves. 

Green  said  their  journey  was  extremely  pleasant,  no  serious 
annoyance  from  the  Indians,  fine  grass  for  their  animals,  plenty 
of  game,  which  kept  their  camp  constantly  supplied  with  fresh 
buffalo  meat  and  venison.  Their  trip  was  one  of  unalloyed 
pleasure  to  all  except  himself,  who  felt  a  constant  and  worri- 
some anxiety  for  the  loss  of  his  brother's  society.  The  party 
numbered  seventeen  men.  They  passed  the  New  Mexican  set- 
tlements on  the  Rio  Grande,  and  the  90-mile  Jornada  from 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  113 

the  great  river  to  the  Pinos  Altos  Mountains,  and  had,  as  they 
thought,  passed  over  half  the  distance  from  the  Rio  Grande  to 
Tucson,  and  must  have  been  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  what 
is  now  known  as  Apache  Pass.  One  morning,  while  engaged 
in  packing  up,  they  were  attacked  by  the  Apaches.  Green  was 
stricken  down  senseless,  and  lay  in  that  condition,  as  he 
thought,  an  hour  or  more,  when  he  revived  and  found  himself 
in  a  deluge  of  blood  and  covered  with  wounds.  Fortunately 
he  had  his  canteen  of  water,  which  had  been  prepared  for  the 
day,  and  still  had  sufficient  strength  to  raise  it  to  his  lips  and 
drink.  He  then  wiped  the  blood  from  his  eyes,  raised  himself 
by  a  chaparral  bush  and  bewilderingly  took  in  the  surround- 
ings. Fifty  yards  from  where  he  totteringly  stood,  the  horrible 
spectacle  of  his  slaughtered  comrades,  stark,  mutilated  and 
scalped,  presented  themselves  to  his  horrified  view.  The 
savages  were  laughingly  engaged  in  dividing  the  spoils  of 
the  camp.  He  said  he  must  have  gazed  on  the  horrid  scene 
for  full  five  minutes,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  he  began 
to  realize  his  situation.  He  turned  to  move  away,  and  at  the 
first  step  he  fell  to  the  ground.  He  then  took  another  draught 
from  his  canteen  and  crawled  away,  some  100  yards,  when  he 
raised  himself  by  another  bush,  looked  first  in  the  direction 
of  the  bloody  camp  and  then  in  the  opposite  direction,  and 
to  his  inexpressible  joy,  within  thirty  yards  he  saw  his  own 
mule,  saddled  and  bridled,  and  just  as  he  had  left  it  when  the 
attack  was  made.  His  first  thought  was,  would  it  permit  him 
to  catch  it.  Ordinarily  it  would,  but  his  bloody  condition, 
and  the  fright  of  the  mule  in  the  great  excitement  of  the 
attack,  caused  him  grave  and  harrowing  doubts  of  its  permit- 
ting him  even  to  approach  it.  No  time,  however,  was  to 
be  lost,  and  he  first  spoke  to  the  mule,  and  to  his  utter 
surprise  and  joy,  with  a  low  bray  of  seeming  delight,  it  came 
directly  up  and  stood  beside  him.  With  another  draught 

which  emptied  the  canteen  and  a  desperate  effort,  he  succeeded 
8 


114  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

in  mounting,  and  the  faithful  and  intelligent  animal  without 
any  guidance,  or  urging  forward,  moved  hastily  away,  over  the 
chaparral-covered  plains.      By  this  time  the  sun   had   nearly 
reached  meridian,  and  onward  went   the  faithful   mule,  poor 
Green  exerting  to  his  utmost  his  fast-failing  strength  to  main- 
tain himself  in  the  saddle.     At  last  the  poor  mule  quickened 
her  pace,  she  had  scented  water.     In  an  hour  more,   which 
brought  the  time  to  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  the 
lig"ht-footed  little  mule  brought  him  to  a  beautiful   cienega 
(oasis)    fringed    with    shady    willows.     He   dismounted    and 
quenched  his  burning  thirst  and  cooled  his  heated  head  in  the 
limpid  water,  and  laid  him  down  to  rest  in  the   protecting 
shade  of  one  of  the  trees  bordering  the  cienega.     In  a  brief 
space  of  time  he  fell  asleep,  and  slept  delightfully  for  at  least 
two  hours.     He  awoke  to  find  his  faithful  companion  quietly 
grazing  on  the  luxuriant  grass  that  abounded  in  profusion.     It 
was  nearly  sunset,  and  he  began  seriously  and  calmly  to  con- 
sider the   situation.     Another  drink  and  he  felt  strong.     He 
then  proceeded  to  strip  his  mule  of  saddle  and  bridle  and  tie 
her  with  the  picket  rope,  which  had  been  coiled  and  securely 
fastened  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.     The  next  thing  was  to 
attempt  an  examination  of  his  wounds.     His  face  and  nose  were 
slashed  open  horizontally  across,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
done  by  a  lance  thrust  transversely  under  the  nose,  and  cutting 
outwardly  through  the  surface.     He  found  three  lance  thrusts 
through  his  body,  and  one  that  seemed  to  penetrate  the  lungs. 
Fortunately  he  had  a  change  of  clothing  inside  his  blankets, 
which  had  been  strapped  on  behind  his  saddle,  so  he  proceeded 
to  remove  his  bloody  clothes,  wash  himself  as  best  he  could, 
and  bandage  his   wounds.      He  then  dressed  himself  and  felt 
somewhat  comfortable,  spread  his  blankets  and  again  went  to 
sleep.     When  morning  came  he  felt  the  gnawings  of  hunger, 
and  set  himself  to  work  to  prepare  his  breakfast.     Arras  he  had 
none,  save  his  knife.     Whether  or  not  he  had  used  his  rifle  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  115 

revolvers,  he  had  no  recollection.  However,  a  man  of  his 
schooling  is  seldom  without  resources.  He  had  his  Mexican 
mecha  (flint  and  steel),  and  he  proceeded  to  make  a  fire.  He 
then  dug  some  tule  roots,  roasted  and  ate  them.  He  then 
procured  some  prickly  pears,  burned  the  thorns  off,  carefully 
scraped  them,  split  them  in  two  and  bound  them  to  his  wounds. 
He  then  put  in  the  whole  day  in  roasting  tule  roots  for  his 
onward  journey  toward  the  setting  sun.  Another  night  in 
camp,  a  breakfast  of  roots,  a  canteen  full  of  water,  a  copious 
draught,  and  the  forlorn  but  brave  young  fellow  took  up  his 
line  of  march,  determined  to  defy  even  fate  itself.  The  first 
day  exhausted  his  canteen  of  water ;  on  the  fourth  his  roots 
were  gone,  and  his  case  seemed  hopeless.  The  fifth  day  and  no 
water,  and  he  made  a  camp  and  passed  the  night  in  a  half- 
delirious  state.  In  the  morning  he  determined  to  sacrifice  his 
last  and  only  friend,  the  mule  ;  but  how  was  he  to  do  even  that, 
he  had  his  bowie  knife,  but  not  the  strength  to  use  it.  After 
mature  deliberation  he  securely  tied  the  mule's  head  to  a  sub- 
stantial bush,  and  supporting  himself  by  its  neck  he  drove  the 
knife  into  its  neck  vein.  It  stood  perfectly  still,  and  he  glued 
his  lips  to  its  gushing  life-stream  and  satisfied  both  thirst  and 
hunger.  He  then  filled  his  canteen  with  the  blood  of  his  faith- 
ful companion,  and  by  this  time  it  sank  down  and  expired. 
He  put  in  another  day  in  cutting  up  and  jerking  the  mule's 
meat,  and  on  the  following  day  he  recommenced  his  journey 
westward.  On  foot  and  solitary  he  pursued  his  lonely  march. 
Sometimes,  but  seldom,  he  would  find  water.  The  second  day 
after  killing  his  mule,  he  struck  a  road  and  then  lost  it ;  he 
counted  the  days  up  to  fifteen  and  then  became  delirious  and 
insensible  to  all  around  him.  When  he  regained  his  reason  he 
found  himself  in  a  clean  bed  and  a  comfortable  room,  and  soon 
learned  that  he  was  in  the  house  of  a  benevolent  priest  of  a 
Mexican  village  that  proved  to  be  Tuscon ;  that  some  herders 
in  search  of  cattle  had  found  him  wandering  aimlessly  on  the 


116  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

burning  desert,  about  twenty  miles  from  the  village ;  had  ad- 
ministered such  relief  as  they  could,  and  then  brought  him  to 
the.  priest,  under  whose  benevolent  care  he  had  then  been  two 
weeks. 

The  priest  informed  him  that  in  addition  do  the  other  horri- 
ble wounds,  the  air  passed  through  a  great  opening  under  his 
left  breast  to  the  lungs.  H«  said  it  took  him  another  full  week 
to  collect  his  scattered  senses  and  remember  the  horrible  occur- 
rences just  detailed.  Late  in  the  season  Green,  in  company  with 
his  twin  brother,  arrived  in  safety  in  Los  Angeles,  and  after- 
wards became  members  of  the  Ranger  Company. 

During  the  troublous  times  of  '52,  '53  and  '54,  sufficient 
excitement  was  furnished  in  the  southern  counties  to  satisfy 
the  most  mercurial  adventurer,  but  in  '55  and  '56  dull  times 
began  to  grow  apace,  and  the  restless  spirits  of  the  country 
began  to  cast  about  for  more  prolific  fields  of  adventure.  In 
the  summer  of  '56  the  Marshall  brothers  made  up  their  minds 
to  go  to  Nicaragua  and  join  their  fortunes  with  the  conquering 
filibusters  who  ruled  that  country.  Wiley  went  down  first, 
leaving  Green  to  settle  up  some  mining  business  in  Calaveras 
County.  Green  failed  to  arrive  in  August,  as  intended,  and 
in  September  Wiley  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  an 
impoitant  enterprise  known  in  the  history  of  the  filibuster  war 
as  the  "Hair-brained  expedition  of  Wiley  Marshall.1'  A  hun- 
dred men  mounted  and  armed  with  revolvers,  went  sixty  miles 
to  attack  a  fortress  defended  by  five  times  their  number — 
one  of  the  most  foolhardy  attempts — not  exceeded  in  stupid 
gallantry  by  Texas  Tom  Green  storming  an  iron-clad  gunboat 
on  Red  liiver  with  double-barreled  shotguns.  Of  course  the 
expedition  failed — a  bloody  repulse  was  the  result.  When  the 
expedition  left  Masaya,  where  the  writer  was  stationed,  Wiley 
came  to  take  his  leave,  and  the  writer  inquired  when  he 
thought  Green  would  be  down.  He  answered  nervously,  "  Oh, 
didn't  I  tell  you  ?  Green  is  dead." 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  117 

"Impossible,"  said  I;  "did  we  not  hear  from  him  by  the 
last  steamer?" 

"Oh,  yes."  he  replied,  "but  he  died  day  before  yesterday, 
and  I  am  only  half  a  man  now,"  and  he  smiled  sadly. 

"  Don't  look  so  incredulous,"  said  he.  "  I  knew  the  very 
moment  of  his  death,  and  thought  I  was  going  myself  at  the 
time,  and  nothing  but  the  excitement  of  this  important  com- 
mand would  have  sufficed  to  arouse  me  from  the  shock." 

Thirty  hours  later  and  Wiley  was  dead.  His  command  was 
cut  to  pieces  by  the  enemy,  repulsed,  driven,  and  followed 
eighteen  miles  by  the  enemy's  lancers.  Wiley  had  his  thigh 
shattered  by  a  ball ;  was  mounted  on  his  horse,  and  rode  that 
eighteen  miles  with  his  shattered  leg  dangling  at  the  side  of  his 
horse,  all  the  time  insisting  on  maintaining  his  position  in  the 
rear  of  his  flying  command.  Arriving  at  a  place  of  safety  he 
was  taken  off  his  horse,  and  died  in  less  than  two  minutes. 

I  afterwards  learned  that  Green,  the  twin  brother,  died  in 
California  on  the  very  day  stated  by  Wiley,  and  they  were 
3,000  miles  apart  at  the  time,  The  writer  relates  this  as  a 
fact,  and  leaves  it  to  science  to  explain  the  cause  if  it  can. 

This  digression  has  led  the  reader  a  long  way  from  Southern 
California,  but  when  informed  that  many  now  residing  in  Los 
Angeles  remember  the  two  IJilai shall  boys,  even  if  not  so  familiar 
with  the  peculiar  and  mysterious  affinity  existing  between  them 
as  was  the  writer,  and  the  remarkable  tenacity  of  life,  as  mani- 
fested by  both  brothers,  was  so  peculiar  in  itself,  the  narrative 
having  also  a  tendency  to  show  the  manner  of  men  composing 
the  Ranger  company,  and  the  dangers  encountered  in  getting 
to  this  laud  of  gold  in  early  times,  all  of  which  is  certainly  a 
reasonable  excuse  for  the  digression. 


118  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Great  Western  Napoleon — The  Grand  Gringo  Campaign  Against  the 
Desert  Indians — Don  Benito  Wilson,  the  Honest  Indian  Agent — The 
Indians  Steal  His  Horses — A  Vindictive  Pursuit — Don  Vicente  de 
La  Osa  and  His  Reinforcement — The  Padres  of  Old. 


humble  military  chronicler  proposes  in  the  future, 
as  he  has  done  in  the  past,  to  write  up  all  the  wars 
and  campaigns  in  which  he  has  ever  participated, 
not  for  self  glorification,  or  with  the  vain  hope  of  being 
considered  a  military  critic,  but  with  the  unselfish  desire  to 
enroll  on  the  page  of  history  the  names  of  all  the  great 
military  commanders  under  whom  he  has  had  the  honor  of 
serving,  in  a  subordinate  capacity.  In  the  past  he  has  had 
somewhat  to  say  of  his  first  campaign,  under  the  immortal 
Winn  in  hig  famous  and  sanguinary  "El  Dorado  war,"  in 
1850.  He  has  written  up  the  murderous  conflict  in  Nicaragua, 
and  has  given  to  the  world  an  unvarnished  picture  of  the 
"gray-eyed  man,"  who  deluged  that  fair  country  in  blood  and 
left  her  proud  cities  smouldering  ruins.  In  the  future  he  pro- 
poses, in  his  most  truthful  style,  to  give  an  account  of  some  of 
the  grand  reviews,  marches  and  countermarches,  advances  and 
retreats,  of  "the  Great  Western  Napoleon,"  and  will  dilate 
largely  on  General  Banks'  grand  cotton  grabbing  expedition  up 
Red  River,  and  will  say  a  great  deal  about  the  grand  and 
splendid  strategic  sparring  by  those  two  great  masters  in  the 
art,  Edward  R.  S.  Canby  and  John  Bankhead  Magruder,  with 
St.  Louis  as  the  stake  played  for.  But  the  present  page  will  be 
devoted  to  the  last  grand  campaign  of  the  warlike  angels 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  119 

against  the  barbaric  horde  that  had  from  the  days  of  "Los 
Fundadores,"  made  periodical  predatory  raids  into  this  fair 
and  fat  land,  for  the  purpose  of  stocking  their  ever  depleted 
larders  with  sirloins  and  steaks  cut  fresh  from  our  noble  mus- 

• 

tangs.  The  noble  red  men  of  the  mountains  and  desert  had 
worried  the  haughty  Spaniard  greatly,  was  sometimes  pursued 
by  him  vigorously,  was  often  spitted  on  the  lance  of  the 
revengeful  Spaniard,  who  objected  to  having  his  worldly  wealth 
driven  off  and  converted  into  mince  pies  by  those  aboriginal 
cooks,  who  did  not  even  know  the  use  of  Chili  peppers.  The 
war  between  the  Spaniard  and  the  desert  Indian  was  vindictive 
in  the  extreme ;  prisoners  were  seldpm  taken  on  either  side, 
the  Spaniard,  well  knowing  that  if  taken  alive,  death  by  fire 
and  torture  awaited  him.  While  on  the  other  hand,  the 
Indian,  if  captured,  was  subject  to  a  fate  not  less  cruel,  that 
is  to  say,  he  was  unceremoniously  turned  over  to  the  gentle 
Mission  priests,  was  duly  baptized,  taught  the  catechism 
converted  into  a  first-class  Christian  and  a  most  useful  slave, 
and  had  his  soul  saved  at  the  expense  of  his  body.  Lassoing 
converts  was  the  most  noble  occupation  of  the  time,  and  tradi- 
tion gives  the  name  and  exploits  of  a  certain  devout  friar,  who 
earned  a  crown  immortal  by  his  success  in  capturing  converts 
with  the  lasso  and  converting  them  with  the  lash. 

The  last  aboriginal  foray,  and  the  first  American  pursuit,  is 
to  be  the  present  task  of  this  proud  historian, .who  feels  great 
pride  in  making  known  to  the  world  that  he  served  personally 
in  a  campaign  so  brilliant,  so  decisive,  a  pursuit  so  energetic,  so 
rapid,  so  vindictive,  as  to  ever  after  deter  the  barbarians  from 
an  attempt  to  steal  mustangs  from  the  descendants  of  Boone, 
Kenton  and  other  great  American  backwoodsmen,  who  always 
killed  an  Indian  before  they  skinned  him . 

To  be  brief  and  to  the  point  (and  brevity  and  pointedness  are 
the  greatest  of  all  literary  virtues),  in  the  Spring  of  1852,  the 
Great  Father,  at  the  Capital  of  our  great  country,  appointed 


120  REMINISCENCES    OK    A    RANGER. 

our  highly  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  Don  Benito  Wilson,  step- 
father to  all  the  Indians  hereabouts;  and  a  good  step-father, 
sure  enough,  was  generous  old  Don  Banito  to  his  dusky  proteges. 
Don  Benito  seemed  tp  love  all  mankind.  .No  doubt  exists  in 
the  mind  of  this  chronicler  that  Don  Benito  did  love  the  whole 
human  family;  and  Don  Benito  seemed  to  have  a  special  love 
and  regard  for  the  red  branch  thereof — the  poor  Indian.  He 
always  had  a  smile,  a  kind  word,  and  was  wont  to  manifest  his 
love  for  his  charge  in  substantial  gratuities.  But  one  time  Don 
Benito  got  mad  at  the  Indians,  and,  like  the  immortal  Wash- 
ington, in  .his  wrath  he  was  terrible.  Who  can  blame  the  kind- 
hearted  Indian  agent  for  -getting  mad  at  the  Indians,  when  on 
their  last  grand  raid  into  this  happy  valley  the  rascally  redskins 
stole  a  great  number  of  harses  from  Don  Benito,  and  not  even 
the  hair  of  a  horse  did  the  ungrateful  vagabonds  of  the  desert 
steal  from  anybody  else.  The  idea  of  Indians  stealing  horses 
from  the  only  honest  Indian  agent  possibly  that  ever  breathed 
the  foul  air  of  the  Indian  Bureau — one  who  had  never  even 
contemplated  or  thought  of  the  ease  of  making  ten  dollars  out 
of  a  pair  of  two-dollar  blankets !  Don  Benito,  without  doubt, 
was  an  out-and-out  honest  Indian  agent,  and  the  Indians  that 
stole  his  horses,  and  passed  through  other  men's  herds  to  get 
at  them,  were  the  most  ungrateful  and  rascally  set  of  redskins 
that  the  bloody  page  of  history  gives  any  account  of. 

In  May,  1853,  just  before  the  organization  of  the  Ranger 
Company,  the  desert  Indians  came  through  the  Soledad  Pass, 
then  over  the  rugged  San  Fernando  mountains,  rode  past  the 
many  herds  grazing  in  the  San  Fernando  valley,  came  through 
the  Cahuenga  Pass,  crossed  the  Brea  Rancho,  teeming  with 
equine  life,  swept  over  the  Rancho  Rodeo  de  las  Aguas,  and 
raided  Don  Benito's  ranch  beyond,  and  retraced  their  steps  by 
the  way  they  came  in,  religiously  respecting  the  rights  of  proper- 
ty in  all  others  save  Don  Benito's.  Certainly  a  strange  freak  of 
aboriginal  human  nature.  When  the  raiders  came  in  we  were 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  121 

not  exactly  informed.  They  had  been  concealed  in  one  of  the 
canons  of  the  Cahuenga  range,  had  stolen  the  horses  and 
departed  on  a  Sunday  night,  and  on  Monday  morning  the  news 
was  brought  in  to  the  indignant  agent,  who  called  for  volun- 
teers to  pursue  and  recapture  his  stolen  property,  and  to 
properly  chastise  the  ungrateful  wretches.  In  two  hours  the 
Gringo  element  was  astir.  Ferocious  looking  warriors  dashed 
up  and  down  Main  street,  with  an  immense  clatter  of  spurs, 
with  comfortable-looking  rolls  of  blankets  substantially  strapped 
on  behind  their  saddles,  which  said  blankets  had  been  patriot- 
ically and  gratuitously  given  by  our  generous  merchants.  Can- 
teens were  in  great  demand,  and  when  a  hero  was  fortunate 
enough  to  secure  one,  away  he  would  dash  to  the  "Bella 
Union"  or  the  "Montgomery,"  where  the  canteen  would  be 
passed  in  to  generous  old  Hodges,  of  the  former  place,  or  to  the 
chivalrous  Getman,  of  the  latter,  and  the  said  canteens  would 
be  promptly  returned  to  their  respective  owners,  filled  with 
something  more  efficacious  on  a  campaign  than  holy  water  or 
cold  tea.  Moving  an  army  is  a  slow,  business,  moving  volun- 
teers is  aggravatingly  slow,  and  several  times  we  mustered  to 
march,  and  still  some  sluggard  was  not  yet  ready.  So  it  must 
have  been  full  one  o'clock  when  we  boldly  marched  forth  with 
the  determination  fully  expressed  in  the  eagle  eye  of  our  Colonel 
— for  be  it  known,  gentle  reader,  that  up  to  that  campaign 
Don  Benito  had  only  been  a  simple  Captain.  It  was  on  that 
grand  and  warlike  occasion,  1  believe,  that  our  gallant  comman- 
der won  his  imaginary  spread  eagles.  As  before  stated,  we 
boldly  marched  forth  with  the  determination  fully  expressed  in 
the  eagle  eye  of  our  Colonel,  and  brilliantly  reflected  by  the  eyes 
of  all  that  gallant  band,  to  skin  Indians  enough  to  supply  the 
demand  for  razor  straps  for  the  next  generation. 

We  marched  out  in  '-'column  of  fours,"  the  brave  author 
forming  a  column  with  the  lamented  Billy  Reader,  Bill  Jenkins 
and  Cy.  Lyon.  A  more  gallant  quartette,  judging  from  our 


122  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

respective  opinion  of  ourselves,  never  rode  forth  to  uphold 
civilization  or  cut  down  an  infidel.  Cy.  wanted  to  know  if  we 
thought  we  could  scalp  an  Indian  without  dismounting.  He 
said  he  could,  and  his  red  head  looked  redder.  Poor  Billy 
Reader  said  our  commander  was  a  Christian  gentleman,  and 
would  not  permit  such  barbarous  acts.  Bill  Jenkins,  who 
always  had  an  eye  to  the  substantial,  said  he  had  no  intention 
of  either  killing  or  scalping,  but  he  would  like  to  capture  about 
a  dozen  or  so  of  stout  young  bucks,  as  he  proposed  to  com- 
mence the  planting  and  cultivation  of  a  vineyard,  and  he 
begged  us,  his  three  comrades,  to  spare  our  prisoners  for  his 
sake. 

In  two  hours  we  were  at  the  Colonel's  ranch,  where  we  did 
ample  justice  to  well-cooked  beef,  coffee  and  tortillas.  We 
then  made  inquiry  as  to  the  number  of  mustangs  stolen,  and 
staked  our  horses  out  to  graze,  by  which  time  the  brilliant  orb 
of  day  had  gone  quietly  to  rest  behind  those  horrid  hills  of 
Santa  Monica.  The  warriors  concluded  to  rest  their  weary 
limbs  and  enjoy  the  bountiful  hospitality  of  our  brave  and 
generous  commander,  and  pass  the  night  at  the  ranch.  Of 
course  our  fiery  chargers  would  be  in  better  plight  for  a  forced 
march  on  the  morrow.  So,  with  a  repetition  of  beef,  tortillas 
and  coffee,  the  brave  and  determined  band  disposed  of  itself  for 
the  night,  before  comfortable  camp  fires,  wrapped  in  the  most 
comfortable  blankets,  to  dream  of  victory  on  the  morrow.  The 
morrow  came,  of  course,  and  with  it  the  third  repetition  of 
beef,  tortillas  and  coffee,  which  was  discussed  with  as  much 
solemnity  as  was  the  last  supper  of  the  brave  Spartan  band  at 
the  pass  of  Thermopylae,  when  their  profane  captain  informed 
them  that  it  was  quite  probable  they  would  breakfast  in  hell. 
This  historian  repeats  that  we  ate  a  hearty  breakfast,  for  the 
reason  that  each  warrior  well  knew  and  evidently  realized  that 
we  were  going  forth  from  the  Valley  of  the  Angels  to  do  battle 
with  the  savage  in  the  great  desert  beyond. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  123 

We  feasted  like  veterans  ;  no  confusion,  no  hurry ;  all  cool- 
ness, except  the  coffee,  which  was  deliciously  hot.  It  must 
have  been  nine  o'clock  A.  M.  by  the  time  our  brave  commander 
mustered  his  gallant  band  for  the  deliberately-planned  pursuit. 
Our  commander  dispensed  with  the  usual  formality  of  a  speech, 
but  his  manner  was  more  eloquent  than  words.  His  unspoken 
words,  which  were  mutely  responded  to  by  that  heroic  band  of 
which  this  proud  historian  boasts  of  having  been  one,  were : 
"  We  will  let  those  rascally  redskins  know  that  they  have  no 
longer  to  deal  with  the  Spaniard  or  the  Mexican,  but  with  the 
invincible  race  of  American  backwoodsmen,  which  has  driven 
the  savage  from  Plymouth  Rock  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
has  headed  him  off  here  on  the  western  shore  of  the  continent, 
and  will  drive  him  back  to  meet  his  kindred  fleeing  westward, 
all  to  be  drowned  in  the  great  Salt  Lake/' 

Those  were  the  noble  sentiments  that  inspired  this  patriotic 
historian,  and  were  participated  in,  of  course,  by  all  that 
devoted  band  on  that  martial  occasion.  We  marched,  we  moved 
up  that  canon,  known  to-day  as  "Beach's  Canon,"  until  it 
grew  quite  narrow,  when  our  cool-headed  commander  ordered 
a  halt,  and  addressed  himself  to  Billy  Sandford,  who  was 
second  in  command  of  the  expedition,  and  said:  "I  think  we 
had  better  get  out  of  this  canon  and  on  to  the  ridge."  While 
thus  halted  he  told  us  a  story,  while  the  command  inspected 
canteens,  many  of  which,  on  being  shaken,  emitted  sounds  un- 
satisfactory to  a  military  ear.  Our  commander  said  that  on 
the  occasion  or  a  former  raid  into  the  valley,  the  Indians  were 
pursued  by  a  party  under  Andres  Pico,  who  followed  them  up 
a  canon,  and  that  the  Indians  concealed  themselves  in  the  chap- 
arral, and  after  having  permitted  their  pursuers  to  pass,  at- 
tacked them  in  the  rear,  and  tried  to  drive  them  ahead  with 
their  herd  of  stolen  mustangs.  Andres,  however,  objected  to 
being  driven  forward,  faced  his  command  about,  and  desper- 
ately charged  through  the  savages;  and  after  having  cut  his 


- 

124  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

way  out,  said  to  his-  subordinates,  "  Great  God,  what  a  magnifi- 
cent escape."  We  all  laughed  heartily  at  the  story,  and  our 
commander  said  he  proposed  to  profit  by  the  fortunate  experience 
of  the  gallant  Andres,  and  never  lead  an  army  into  a  canon. 
Canteens  were  duly  passed,  and- each  warrior  gazed  thoughtfully 
at  the  rugged  hight  above,  and  when  this  pious  ceremony  was 
over,  our  commander  took  the  lead  and  commenced  the  laborious 
task  of  surmounting  that  ridge.  Owing  to  the  density  of  the 
chaparral  the  ascent  was  terribly  difficult,  and  had  the  ridge 
been  crowned  with  blazing  batteries,  as  was  the  famous  Lookout 
Mountain,  I  doubt  if  we  had  ever  attained  its  rugged  summit. 
However,  after  hours  of  scrambling,  we  not  only  surmounted 
the  ridge,  but  in  safety  stood  on  the  summit  of  the  Cahuenga 
range  and  gazed  on  the  magnificent  San  Fernando  Valley,  in 
all  its  beauty,  like  a  great  green  carpet  spread  out  before  us, 
and  the  Valley  of  the  Angels  and  the  Pacific  ocean  in  our 
rear.  Two  hours  later,  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we 
drew  up  in  martial  array  before  the  hospitable  castle  of  the 
lordly  Don  Vicente  de  la  Osa,  the  baronial  proprietor  of 
the  Rancho  del  Encino,  who  cordially  invited  us  to  dismount, 
stake  our  jaded  mustangs  and  refresh  the  inner  man,  an 
invitation  we  joyfully  acceded  to,  for  the  reason  that  the  six 
mile  march  over  those  rugged  hights  had  jaded  the  warrior  as 
well  as  the  war  horse. 

Mustangs  staked,  there  commenced  a  doleful  and  disap- 
pointed shaking  of  canteens,  which  the  jovial  old  Don  Vicente 
observing,  said,  "Que  le  hace?  aqui  hay  bastante."  (What's 
the  matter;  there  is  plenty  here.)  And  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  a  demijohn  was  duly  mustered  in  as  a  welcome  rein- 
forcement to  our  warlike  party.  For  two  hours  more  those 
redskin  raiders  had  a  respite  from  that  vindictive,  vigorous 
pursuit.  At  the  end  of  the  two  hours,  however,  there  had 
been  the  fourth  repetition  of  beef,  tortillas  and  coffee.  Then 
we  held  a  council  of  war,  of  which  Don  Vicente  became  the 


KEMINlSCENCfCS    OF    A    RANGER.  125 

principal  spokesman.  He  said  the  Indians  had  passed  his 
ranch  at  about  midnight ;  that  at  daylight  on  Monday  morn- 
ing they  crossed  the  San  Fernando  mountains,  and  were  just 
forty  hours  ahead  of  us ;  that  they  were  evidently  Owens 
River  Indians,  and  well  on  their  way  to  that  desert  fastness, 
and  it  would  be  folly  to  think  of  further  successful  pursuit. 
We  had  been  two  days  on  the  march,  were  fifteen  miles  from 
our  base  of  liquid  supplies ;  the  ammunition  carried  in  our 
canteens  was  utterly  exhausted.  We  had  done  all  that  invinci- 
ble gringos  could  be  expected  to  do.  We  felt  sure  that  gringo 
prestige  had  not  suffered,  even  if  the  contributors  of  blankets 
and  liquid  supplies  had.  That  the  Indian  raiders  had  made  a 
"magnificent  escape,"  and  that  they  had  at  least  suffered 
a  great  scare,  this  last  fact  being  duly  verified  by  subsequent 
history,  this  being  the  first  time  they  were  ever  pursued  by  the 
American  conquerers,  and  this  famous  raid  being  the  last  ever 
made  by  the  Indians  into  the  Valley  of  the  Angels. 

It  is  with  the  greatest  possible  reverence  I  refer  to  the  Mis- 
sion Fathers,  and  their  manner  of  dealing  with  the  Indians. 
My  opinion  of  and  respect  for  those  holy  men  is  such  that, 
feeling  my  matter-of-fact,  prosaic  style  wholly  inadequate  for 
expression,  I  have  therefore  enlisted  in  that  behoof  my  poetic 
friend,  Albert  Fenner  Kercheval,  and  will  finish  this  chapter 
with  his  lively  poem. 


THE  PADRES  OP   OLD. 

They  were  merry  old  fellows  in  cassock  and  gown, 

Those  jolly  old  knights  of  the  smooth-shaven  crown,. 

Those  lion-souled,  eagle-eyed  Padres  of  Spain, 

Who  lorded  it  grandly  o'er  mountain  ana  plain ; 

As  ready  with  fair  Senorita  to  dance 

As  grant  absolution,  or  balance  a  lance; 

Whose  churches  and  missions  impregnable  stood, 

And  did  to  the  heathen  what  seemed  to  them  good ; 

They  brought  up  proud  sinners  with  sharp,  sudden  pulls, . 

And  lassoed  their  converts  like  broncos  and  bulls, 

Or  gathered  confessions  from  red,  rosy  lips, 


126  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

To  hoard  as  the  treasure  the  honey  bee  sips, 

With  hands  that  were  ready  and  hearts  that  were  bold : 

How  I  envy  those  clean-shaven  Padres  of  old! 

With  fair  purple  vineyards  and  wide-spreading  flocks, 

They  sighed  not  for  riches,  they  cared  not  for  "  stocks  " — 

Not  "Comstocks,"  at  least,  though  they  bellowed  and  gored, 

And  fought  for  a  "  rise  "  at  the  Devil's  "  Big  Board  " 

With  a  genuine  reckless  "  Bonanza  King's"  gieed, 

And  cornered  the  stock  in  eternity's  "lead," 

Refusing  all  offers  of  Satan  to  sell 

"  Salvation's  "  sure  stock,  though  they  "  shorted  "  on  "  Hell, 

And  played  for  the  kingdom,  with  Satan  and  sin, 

When  souls  were  the  "  divvys,"  and  gathered  them  in ; 

With  stores  of  frijoles  and  flagons  of  wine, 

They  craved  not  the  treasures  of  city  or  mine; 

With  princely  possessions  to  have  and  to  hold, 

They  were  bully  old  fellows—those  Padres  of  old. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  127 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Great  Ohio  Mail  Robber  Seeks  Refuge  in  Los  Angeles  and  is  Arrested — 
The  Royal  Bengal  Tiger — A  Stir  Among  the  Angels — A  Coel  Lawyer — 
Fourth  of  July  Celebration  at  San  Pedro  and  Los  A.ngeles — Alexander 
&  Banning — Don  Juan  Sepulveda  and  the  Patriotic  Spanish-Ameri- 
cans— A  Reminiscence  by  an  Old  Mexican  Captain — Commodore 
Mervine's  March  on  Los  Angeles — His  Repulse — Patriotic  Mexicans 
Fire  a  Salute  Over  the  Americans  Killed  in  the  Battle — Brave 
Higuera — A  Curious  Court  Scene. 


*N  MAY  1853,  we'  had  a  very  illustrious  accession  to  our 
gringo  element  in  the  person  of  General  0.  B.  Hinton, 
formerly  of  Ohio,  and  one  of  the  great  western  orators 
of  the  early  times.  The  General  was  accompanied  by  his  wife, 
a  most  lusciously  beautiful  woman  of  about  eighteen  or  twenty 
summers  that  seemed  to  have  passed  gently  over  her  fair  form 
and  face.  The  General  was  rough  and  grizzled  with  the  storms 
of  over  half  a  century  of  rugged  western  winters,  and  registered 
himself  at  the  Star  Hotel,  as  "Samuel  B.  Gordon  and  lady, 
Portland,  Oregon,"  and  at  once  gave  out  that  he  was  an  Oregon 
lawyer  of  lucrative  practice,  and  had  only  sought  our  genial 
clime  on  account  of  the  fair  flower  that  accompanied  him  being 
too  delicate  to  withstand  the  chill  fogs  and  Siberian  blasts  of 
Oregon.  In  a  brief  space  of  time  the  General  became  proprie- 
tor of  the  hotel,  in  which  ne  placed  the  "  Royal  Bengal  Tiger," 
by  name,  Abdul  Crib  Mullah,  as  steward,  and  hung  out  his 
shingle  as  one  of  our  pioneer  attorneys,  and  was  the  first  to  file 
in  our  court  a  divorce  suit.  Everything  seemed  to  flourish  with 
the  distinguished  gentleman  for  a  time.  The  Fourth  of  July 
rolled  around  in  its  usual  way,  and  Samuel  was  the  orator  of 


128  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  day.  It  so  happened  that  we  had  one  Dave  Khinehardt 
here,  who  had,  in  the  prosperous  days  of  the  eminent  gentle- 
man, rendered  service  in  the  capacity  of  coachman,  hostler,  or 
something  of  the  sort,  and  it  still  further  happened  that  Samuel 
B.  had,  most  unfortunately  for  himself,  failed  to  pay  Dave  for 
the  same  service,  and  it  still  more  unfortunately  happened  that 
the  great  Oregon  lawyer  was  a  great  offender  against  the 
Government,  and  a  fugitive  from  justice,  and  Dave  knew  all 
about  it.  So  one  morning  while  Samuel  was  trying  our  first 
divorce  suit,  that  of  Malcom  vs.  Malcom,  the  frail  defendant 
being  one  of  our  fair  California  Spanish  ladies  who  was  proven 
to  have  played  false  to  her  marriage  vow  and  to  her  noble 
gringo  master.  The  elegant  John  H.  Hughes  was  on  the  stand 
as  a  witness  and  had  just  sworn  to  his  personal  knowledge  of 
the  defendant's  delinquency,  when  a  Deputy  United  States 
Marshal  laid  heavy  hands  on  the  great  fugitive  and  read  to  him 
his  warrant  of  arrest.  Talk  about  self  possession,  but  I  assure 
the  reader  on  the  honor  of  a  veracious  story-teller,  that  that 
lawyer  showed  no  manner  of  trepidation,  uneasiness  or  discompo- 
sure, but  politely  requesting  the  astonished  official  to  excuse 
him  until  he  had  discharged  his  duty  to  bis  client,  quietly 
resumed  his  case  which  was  argued  and  submitted,  and  then  he, 
with  a  polite  apology  to  the  officer  for  having  kept  him  waiting 
placed  himself  at  his  disposition,  was  taken  to  the  old  adobe 
on  the  hill,  was  tenderly  chained  and  staked  out  on  that  old 
historical  pine  log,  and  then  the  inquiry  went  like  wildfire, 
"  Who  is  he  ;  what  has  he  done?"  And  the  arrest  caused  quite 
a  stir  among  us  gentle  angels.  It  required  about  two  days  to 
learn  all  about  the  strange  old  man  and  his  previous  history, 
his  crimes  against  the  government;  his  arrest,  escape  and  flight, 
and  his  final  capture  in  the  manner  and  place  above  described. 
General  0.  B.  Hinton  was  a  distinguished  Ohio  politician,  a 
great  mail  contractor,  and  owner  of  many  stage  lines  in  the 
western  states,  was  a  United  States  mail  agent,  and  had  sue- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  129 

cessfully  robbed  the  mails  without  being  suspected,  for  a 
succession  of  years,  was  at  last  suspected,  decoyed  and  entrap- 
ped ;  was  arrested  and  thrown  in  jail.  His  sons  were  men 
of  means.  The  jailer  was  supposed  to  have  been  bribed,  and 
the  distinguished  captive  escaped,  got  on  board  a  New  Orleans 
steamer,  from  which  he  transhipped  to  a  Havana  steamer,  and 
in  safety  walked  the  soil  of  the  faithful  isle.  He  was  followed  to 
New  Orleans,  and  a  steamer  was  chartered  and  pursued  him  to 
the  harbor  of  Havana,  but  the  great  mail  robber  was  safe  for 
the  time  being  under  the  crown  of  Spain.  This  occurred,  I 
believe,  in  1849  or  1850.  The  fact  of  his  being  so  vigorously 
pursued  gave  him  a  bad  notoriety  in  Cuba,  and  he  was  placed 
under  surveillance.  The  Government  secretly  offered  $40,000 
for  his  arrest  and  delivery ;  he  fled  from  Cuba  and  came  to 
San  Francisco,  and  the  first  man  he  met  recognized  him. 
Whither  to  flee  he  knew  not.  He  saw  a  steamship  with  her 
smoke  stacks  emitting  volumes  of  black  smoke,  and  as  soon  as 
he  could  rid  himself  of  his  old  acquaintance,  he  walked  on 
board  without  inquiring  the  destination  of  the  craft,  which 
turned  out  to  be  Portland,  Oregon,  where  he  arrived  and 
remained,  went  into  business,  prospered,  married  the  fair  crea- 
ture who  accompanied  him,  and  continued  in  Portland  until 
again  recognized ;  took  the  steamer  to  San  Francisco ;  and 
the  steamer  to  Los  Angeles  being  the  first  to  leave,  he  came 
here  as  above  stated.  General  Kichardson,  the  United  States 
Marshal,  came  here  in  person  for  the  eminent  ex-politician, 
appointed  .  a  squad  of  special  deputies,  of  whom  the  pious 
writer  was  one,  to  convey  him  safely  on  board  the  steamer  at 
San  Pedro.  The  Marshal  safely  arrived  in  San  Francisco  with 
his  important  charge,  and  two  days  thereafter  he,  the  mail 
robber,  was  on  his  wa>  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  having 
escaped  the  meshes  of  the  law  on  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus. 
That  was  the  last  ever  known  of  our  illustrious  quondam 
Fourth  of  July  orator  and  hotel  proprietor.  His  fair  young 


130  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

wife  eloped  with  a  gambler  and  went  to  San  Diego,  which  was 
the  last  known  of  her. 

It  transpired  that  Dave  Rhinehardt  interviewed  the  great 
fugitive,  and  promised  if  he  would  pay  his  past  indebtedness 
his  secret  would  be  kept,  and  if  not  mistaken,  I  believe  he 
paid  Dave,  who  afterwards  gave  information  to  our  convivial 
and  warlike  United  States  District  Attorney.  This  incident 
has  only  been  related  to  show  what  a  great  loss  we  -sustained 
when  the  General  was  taken  away  from  us.  Generals  were 
Generals  in  those  days,  and  we  deeply  felt  the  great  loss  we 
sustained  on  that  occasion.  What  eminence  the  General  might 
have  attained  among  the  angels  is  hard  to  say.  It  is  quite 
certain,  however,  that,  had  he  remained  and  taken  up  with  the 
noble  trade  of  office-seeking,  he  might  have  attained  eminent 
local  distinction. 

Speaking  of  Fourth  of  July  celebrations,  reminds  me  of  the 
most  particularly  convivial  one  that  this  very  patriotic  his- 
torian ever  participated  in,  which  occurred  at  San  Pedro  in 
that  memorable  year  1853.  That  ancient  commercial  entrepot 
was  larger  then  than  at  present,  the  founding  of  Wilmington 
not  having  as  yet  been  projected  by  General  Banning,  its 
illustrious  founder  and  patron.  The  glory  of  San  Pedro, 
as  that  of  imperial  Rome,  proud  Venice  and  expectant  San 
Diego,  has  departed,  the  author  fears  never  to  return ; 
Carthage  had  her  rival  in  Rome ;  San  Pedro  had  a  merciless 
rival  in  fair  Wilmington,  and  now  you  behold  a  dilapidated 
sheep  corral  that  seems  to  say  in  solemn  silence,  "  Here  stood 
San  Pedro,  the  peerless." 

San  Pedro  was  at  the  time  referred  to  a  great  place  ;  it  had 
no  streets,  for  none  were  necessary.  No  prison  admonished  the 
evil-doer  to  give  San  Pedro  a  wide  berth.  No  church  invited 
the  piously-inclined  to  seek  religious  consolation  at  the  lively 
port.  No  !  there  was  nothing  of  that  sort,  but  the  author 
solemnly  asseverates  that  there  was  a  liberty  pole  at  San  Pedro, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    EANGER.  131 

from  which  proudly  floated  the  Flag  of  Freedom.  That  there 
were  two  mud  scows,  a  ship's  anchor  and  a  fishing  boat,  a  mul- 
tiplicity of  old  broken-down  Mexican  carts,  a  house,  a  large 
hay-stack  and  mule  corral,  and  our  old  friend  the  gallant  Laura 
Sevan,  floating  swan-like  at  her  anchorage,  on  that  beautiful 
Fourth  of  July. 

Alexander  and  Banning  administered  the  government  at  San 
Pedro  at  the  time  mentioned.  Don  George  Alexander,  he  of 
the  big  heart,  worthy  brother  of  the  generous  Don  David,  a 
noble,  whole-souled,  true-hearted  American,  bursting  and  boil- 
ing over  with  love  of  country  and  patriotism;  and  ardent 
Phineas,  who  was  not  then  even  a  captain,  and  did  not  dream 
of  ever  adorning  his  well-developed  shoulders  with  stars 
plucked  from  the  American  constellation.  Phineas  Banning 
has,  since  that  memorable  '53,  risen  to  the  rank  of  General — 
an  honest  and  well-merited  distinction,  merited  if  for  no  other 
service  save  the  princely  hospitality  dispensed  on  our  first 
national  feast  day  above  referred  to,  wrhich  he  has  continued  to 
the  present  day.  It  is  useless  to  say  that  Banning  is  still  on 
hand  on  every  patriotic  occasion  ;  but  generous  old  Don  Goorge, 
after  a  quarter  of  a  century  of  usefulness  spent  among  us 
betook  himself  to  some  other  field  of  enterprise,  and  is,  I 
believe,  yet  living,  and  may  God  speed  him — for  a  truer  patriot 
or  better  Christian  never  -dwelt  in  the  blessed  land  of  the 
angels. 

For  a  week  or  more  the  patriotic  proprietors  of  San  Pedro 
gave  out  by  word  of  mouth,  and  published  in  both  English  and 
Spanish,  a  general  invitation  to  the  whole  county  and  the 
counties  adjoining,  and  to  the  world,  including  San  Bernardino, 
then  exclusively  Mormon,  San  Diego  and  Mexico,  to  come  to 
San  Pedro  and  assist  in  the  patriotic  demonstrations  to  be  then 
and  there  held.  On  the  morning  of  the  3d,  Alexander  and 
Banning's  stages  left  the  Angels  for  San  Pedro  crowded  with 
guests,  and  returned  for  another  living  freight;  every  imaginable 


132  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

conveyance  to  be  found  in  the  city,  from  Lanfranco's  pioneer 
sulky  to  a  Mexican  cart,  was  pressed  into  service,  and 
troops  of  gaily  dressed  and  splendidly  mounted  caballeros, 
accompanied  by  light  and  airy  equestriennes,  were  seen  tak- 
ing up  their  line  of  march  to  the  place  of  promised  fes- 
tivities, while  old  Uncle  Dave  Anderson,  boiling  over  with 
patriotic  music,  was  seen  going  out  of  town  prominently  seated 
in  a  grand  improvised  music  car,  accompanied  by  the  elite  of 
our  angelic  musical  world,  while  the  whole  country  seemed  to 
be  on  the  move  by  noon  of  the  3d  of  July.  The  happy  and 
light-hearted  rancheros  who,  up  to  that  time,  knew  not  of 
trouble,  hard  times  or  oppressive  taxation,  turned  out  in  force 
to  assist  their  new-made  kinsfolk,  the  liberty-loving  Yankees, 
in  celebrating  the  common  birthday  of  liberty,  and  by  the 
time  the  shades  of  evening  fell  on  the  patriotic  city,  2,000 
guests,  of  all  ages,  sexes  and  nationalities,  had  paid  their 
respects  to  their  liberal  entertainers,  who,  until  the  evening  of 
the  5th,  dispensed  a  hospitality  more  than  princely.  It  was 
superlatively  royal,  it  was  grand,  full-handed  and  without 
stint. 

That  gallant  old  Yankee  skipper,  Captain  Morton,  put  in 
an  appearance  several  days  prior  to  the  Fourth  with  his  beauti- 
ful little  clipper  the  Laura  Sevan,  freighted  with  good  things 
both  edible  and  drinkable  for  the  grand  and  hospitable  occasion. 
The  unpatriotic  reader  will  naturally  inquire  where  we  all  ate 
and  slept  when  there  was  but  one  house  in  the  city.  Answering 
for  one  patriot,  the  author  will  say  that  he  did  not  sleep  during 
the  time  spent  in  merry-making,  and  as  for  eating,  it  was  one 
perpetual  eat.  The  long  dining  table  was  kept  going  every 
hour,  night  and  day;  the  musicians  and  dancers  relieved  each 
other;  those  not  engaged  in  eating  or  dancing  were  engaged 
in  toasting,  responding  to  toasts,  speech-making  or  singing 
patriotic  songs.  A  crowd  of  Americans  roared  "Hail  Colum- 
bia," another  crowd  the  "  Star  Spangled  Banner"  and  "Yankee 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  133 

Doodle,"  a  knot  of  gay  Frenchmen  made  night  melodious  with 
the  soul  inspiring  "Marseillaise,"  while  the  patriotic  Mexican 
kept  up  the  "  Ponchada  "  and 

"  Marchamos  Mexicauos, 
March  amoft  con  valor, 

Y  viva  la  libel  tad." 

In  this  manner  we  passed  the  night  of  the  3d.  On  the 
morning  of  the  4th  a  grand  procession  was  formed  with  jovial 
old  Judge  Dryden  on  foot  as  Grand  Marshal.  Over  a  thousand 
patriots  were  in  line.  We  did  not  march  through  the  principal 
streets,  but  marched  around  and  around  the  liberty  pole,  hur- 
rahing and  cheering  all  the  time  the  gay  flag  of  freedom  that 
.  so  proudly  floated  over  us.  The  procession  then  formed  a 
grand  hollow  square  and  each  patriot  was  given  a  bottle  of 
champagne  with  the  cork  started  and  a  glass.  When  this  dispo- 
sition was  made,  Don  George  stepped  out  in  front  of  the  hollow 
square  and  requested  the  attention  of  the  guests.  Every  man 
was  silent  attention.  Then  said  patriotic  Don  George,  and  his 
words  were  duly  interpreted  into  Spanish  and  French  : 

"Gentlemen,  1  will  give  a  toast  which  when  drank  will  be  fol- 
lowed with  three  cheers.  Gentlemen,  here  is  to  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States."  Every  man  drank,  and  three 
immense  cheers  followed.  Every  man  drank,  and  cheered  except 

one,  Tom ,  he  who  pitted  himself  against  old  Dimmick 

in  defense  of  the  Rangers  when  arrested  for  cat-hauling  the 
city  Marshal  heretofore  referred  to.  Tom  stood  grim  and  silent 
until  the  cheering  had  subsided,  when  he  deliberately  smashed 
his  bottle  on  the  ground,  tossed  his  glass  to  one  side  and  swore 
he  wouldn't  drink  to  any  d — d  loco  foco.  Frank  Pierce  was 
President  and  Tom  was  a  Whig.  Not  a  word  from  that 
crowd  of  patriots ;  all  was  dignifiedly  silent,  and  Don  George, 
without  so  much  as  a  ripple  on  his  serene  countenance, 
requested  the  grand  Marshal  to  dismiss  the  parade.  Don 
George  was  greatly  annoyed,  as  the  sequel  will  show,  although 


134  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

too  well  bred  to  notice  the  breach  of  patriotic  good  breeding  at 
the  time,  but  two  years  thereafter  he  played  even  on  Tom,  as 
I  will  yet  inform  the  reader.  After  the  dismissal  of  the  grand 
parade  as  above  stated,  Captain  Morton  announced  his  vessel 
as  ready  to  give  such  as  felt  so  disposed  a  sea  trip,  while  the 
writer  accompanied  Don  Juan  Sepulveda  to  Dead  Man's 
Island,  to  fire  a  national  salute.  Don  Juan  in  the  exuberance 
of  his  patriotism,  had  unearthed  a  venerable  field  piece  which 
had  enjoyed  the  silence  of  the  grave  since  it  had  fired  its  last 
shot  in  defense  of  Mexican  Territory.  Captain  Sepulveda 
mustered  and  embarked  his  command  on  a  large  boat  and 
proceeded  up  Wilmington  Bay,  where  he  embarked  his 
artillery  and  sailed  for  Dead  Man's  Island,  where,  after  infinite 
labor,  he  succeeded  in  mounting  his  battery  on  the  highest  point 
of  the  island,  and  all  being  ready,  we  let  loose  such  a  thunder  as 
was  never  exceeded  by  one  gun.  It  seemed  that  we  would  wake 
the  seven  sleeping  heroes  who  so  quietly  reposed  on  the  little 
barren  rock.  Don  Juan  said  the  firing  would  serve  a  triple 
purpose,  it  would  dissipate  the  last  vestige  of  unfriendly  feel- 
ing that  may  have  lingered  in  the  bosoms  of  the  sons  of  the 
country  towards  the  United  States ;  that  it  would  serve  to 
express^our  gratitude  to  the  great  founders  of  modern  liberty ; 
and  it  would  be  an  appropriate  salute  to  the  seven  brave 
mariners  who  lost  their  lives  in  their  country's  service,  and 
after  the  first  salvo,  and  while  paying  our  respects  to  our 
liquid  ammunition,  Don  Juan  proceeded  to  tell  us  how  the 
seven  sailors  came  to  be  killed.  Their  wooden  head-boards 
stood  in  line  in  front  of  us.  Said  Don  Juan  :  "El  Comodoro 
(meaning  Commodore  Mervine,  U.  S.  Navy),  made  his 
advance  on  Los  Angeles.  He  made  his  first  halt  at  Doniin- 
guez'  Kanch,  and  camped  for  the  night.  In  the  morning  he 
took  up  his  line  of  march,  with  the  Californian  horsemen  in 
front,  flank,  and  rear.  The  Californians,  poorly  armed,  mostly 
with  lances,  had  an  extravagant  idea  of  Yankee  prowess,  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  135 

kept  at  a  safe  distance  until  the  Commodore  had  reached  a 
point  near  Compton,  when  we  commenced  to  harass  him.  We 
had  this  same  gun  mounted  on  a  Mexican  carreta,  and  at  the 
first  discharge,  shiver  and  down  went  one  of  the  wheels,  and 
the  gun  being  practically  dismounted,  our  General  (Carrillo) 
ordered  it  to  be  abandoned,  which  was  being  done  when  one 
Higuera  left  the  ranks  of  horsemen  and  swore  that  if  the 
Yankees  got  the  gun  it  would  be  over  his  dead  body.  With 
his  own  hand,  unaided  he  loaded  it  just  in  time  to  let  drive  at 
the  head  of  the  Yankee  column  and  killed  seven  men,  aestos 
mismos"  (these  same).  The  heroism  of  Higuera  so  inspired  the 
Californians  that  they  rushed  in  and  bodily  dragged  the  gun 
away  with  their  lazos,  and  then  so  vigorously  assailed  the 
invaders  that  they  were  forced  to  fall  back,  carrying  these  poor 
fellows  with  them,  and  were  glad  to  get  safely  on  board  their 
marine  fortress.  •  The  old  gun  was  subsequently  buried  near 
my  house,  and  after  a  nap  of  six  years,  here  it  is,  and  here  am 
I,  and  others  who  dragged  it  away  at  the  time ;  and  here  we 
are,  all  of  us,  the  old  gun,  the  old  enemies,  now  friends ;  and 
here  is  brave  Higuera,  firing  a  salute  of  honor  over  our  former 
foes,  who  fell  in  battle.  What  do  you  say,  boys  ?  Up, 
Higuera!  "Viva  Los  Estados  Unidos  ! "  "Viva  Mexico  Somos 
Amigos  ! " 

The  author  feels  great  satisfaction  in  informing  the  reader 
that  brave  Higuera,  a  true  hero,  can  be  seen  at  any  time  on  our 
streets,  a  quite  old  man,  that  one  would  not  suspect  of  ever 
having  had  the  courage,  single-handed  and  alone,  to  face  an 
army  of  gringos.  Napoleon,  for  the  act,  would  have  conferred 
on  him  the  "Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor." 

#  $$;:;$$ 

The  music  and  festivities  kept  up  all  day,  all  night,  and 
most  of  the  day  of  the  5th ;  but  during  that  day,  sleepy  and 
worn  out  patriots  wended  their  way  to  Los  Angeles  ;  and  so 
ended  this  grand  and  patriotic  affair. 


136  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

About  two  years  thereafter  a  convention  met  in  Los  Angeles 
to  nominate  county  officers.  Don  George  was  a  delegate,  and 
Tom was  a  candidate  for  Sheriff. 

Tom  met  Don  George  with  all  the  winning  smiles  of  a  can- 
didate, and  said :  "  Don  George,  I  am  a  candidate,  as  you  are 
aware,  and  of  course  can  count  on  your  vote." 

"  No,  sir,  you  cannot,"  said  Don  George,  emphatically. 

"Why,  Don  George,  what  can  be  the  matter?  I  am  aston- 
ished ;  pray  explain." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Tom  ,  I  hope  I  may  forever  lose  my  rights 

as  an  American  freeman  when  I  give  my  vote  to  any  man  who 
would  refuse  to  drink  to  the  President  of  the  United  States  on 

a  Fourth  of  July.  Good  day,  Mr.  Tom ;  I  am  not  your 

man." 

One  more  anecdote  of  Tom. 

In  1856  Tom  was  a  Deputy  U.  S.  Marshal  under 

McDuffie,  and  a  crowd  of  Los  Angeles  men,  including  Tom, 
were  the  guests  of  old  man  Armstrong  of  the  revered  St. 
Nicholas  at  San  Francisco.  Tom  broke  his  cane  and  gave  it  to 
an  itinerant  tinker  to  be  fixed;  the  cane  was  duly  fixed  and 
returned  but  not  paid  for.  The  day  following  the  tinker 
dunned  Tom,  in  the  presence  of  other  gentlemen,  for  four  bits, 
and  for  his  audacity  was  knocked  down  by  Tom  with  a  chair. 
Tom  was  arrested  and  duly  appeared  before  the  Police  Court 
for  trial.  When  called  up,  Tom  said:  "Judge,  is  there  any 
law  against  a  United  States  Deputy  Marshal  knocking  a  Dutch- 
man down?" 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  great  Vigilance  Committee  was 
in  session  at  San  Francisco,  and  it  still  further  happened  that 
Old  Coon  was  Police  Judge,  and  Old  Coon  had  an  idea  that  a 
Dutchman  had  rights  in  this  country  that  even  a  United  States 
Marshal  was  under  obligations  to  respect ;  so  Old  Coon  said, 

"  Mr.  Clerk,  enter  a  fine  of  $20  against  Mr. for  contempt 

of  Court." 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  137 

Said  Tom  :   "  Well,  by Judge,  that's  kind  of  rough." 

"  Enter  a  fine  of  $40  against  Mr. for  contempt  of  Court." 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  somewhat  bewildered,  ''Judge,  how  is 
this,  I  want  to  know?  " 

"  Mr.  Clerk,  enter  a  fine  of  $10  against  Mr. .  Now, 

Mr. what  have  you  to  say  about  this  assault  and  battery?" 

"  Guilty,  sir,  guilty,"  said  Tom  desperately,  '"  but  may  it 
please  the  Court,  that  is  not  law  in  Los  Angeles." 

"Fine  you  $10,  sir,  and  advise  you  to  return  to  Los  An- 
geles." 

A  quarter  of  a  century  glided  by  and  the  author,  in  his  pro- 
fessional capacity  of  attorney,  had  been  employed  to  procure  a 
United  States  patent  to  a  Mexican  grant  belonging  to  many 
owners,  all  of  whom  agreed  to  contribute  thwir  pro  rata  of 
expense  in  the  matter,  except  one,  a  tall,  middle-aged 
Avoman,  who  maintained  that  she,  for  twenty-five  years,  had  a 
patent  to  her  part  of  the  land  in  question.  That  an  officer 
from  Washington  had  personally  placed  it  in  her  hand,  and 
that  it  bore  the  great  red  seal  of  the  Government.  When  this 
information  was  given,  the  lady  informed  the  author  that  on  a 
future  visit  she  would  show  it  to  me  and  hoped  I  would  be 
satisfied.  After  a  while  the  fair  possessor  of  the  Government 
patent  came  into  my  office  with  "Ahora  Veras,"  "  Now,  sir, 
see,"  and  she  drew  forth  from  a  bundle  of  faded  calico  a  formi- 
dable looking  document  which,  on  inspection,  proved  to  be  a 
certified  copy  of  a  decree  of  divorce  in  Malcom  vs.  J\l«".lcom. 


138  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Phantom,  Spectre,  or  What  is  It? — Great  Estampida — Excitement 
Among  the  Vaqueros — Bill  Solves  the  Mystery — John  T.  Lanfranco's 
Pioneer  Sulky — A  Sharp  Briar  and  Pious  Fraud — A  Sermon  to  the 
Rangers — A  Large  Collection— A  Midnight  Raid  and  Important  Cap- 
ture— The  Jackass  Lawsuit — Drown  and  Thorn — An  Irishman  Can't 
Give  Evidence  in  this  Court — A  Test  of  Blood. 


T  THE  time  referred  to  in  this  chapter  (July,  1853), 
the  plains  between  Los  Angeles  and  San  Pedro  pre- 
sented a  lively  spectacle,  and  the  stranger' who  made  the 
short  journey  at  his  leisure  was  constantly  interested,  and 
always  felt  compensated.  The  vast  herds  of  horses,  and  their 
number  seemed  absolutely  without  limit,  the  many  pic- 
turesque horsemen  driving  the  neighing  and  snorting  herds  in 
all  directions,  the  retainers  of  the  Lugos,  the  Dominguez, 
Avilas  and  Sepulvedas,  the  Stearns  and  Temples,  all  of  whose 
herds  ranged  over  the  plains  referred  to,  made  quite  an  army, 
and  from  early  dawn  to  the  shades  of  evening  were  continually 
on  the  move,  with  their  jingling  spurs,  cavorting  steeds  and 
whizzing  riatas. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  grand  Fourth  of  July  celebration  at 
San  Pedro,  described  in  the  last  chapter,  there  occurred  a  most 
wonderful  and  unaccountable  stampede  in  those  grand  herds, 
the  whole  of  which  seemed  to  have  lost  their  senses,  and  the 
equine  paterfamilias  seemed  to  have  lost  entire  control  over 
their  unnumbered  wives  and  sweethearts  ;  old  mares  in  mad 
frenzy  trampled  under  foot  their  tender  and  cherished  off- 
spring ;  the  herds  of  Dominguez  wildly  mixed  in  with  those  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  139 

Sepulveda,  the  Lugos  with  the  Avilas  ;  and  so  wild  and  unac- 
countable was  the  stampede  that  the  old  major  domos,  with 
their  well-trained  and  disciplined  underlings,  utterly  failed  to 
subject  to  control  the  wild,  frightened,  terrified  mustangs.  Said 
one  old  lazador,  "  The  devil  surely  has  got  among  the  man- 
adas,"  and  he  piously  crossed  himself.  Along  toward  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  of  the  grand  stampede,  the  major  domo  of 
old  man  Lugo,  with  the  whole  troop  of  vaqueros  at  his  heels, 
rode  wildly  up  to  the  ranch  house,  seemingly  scared  out  of  his 
wits,  and  said,  in  response  to  his  angry  master,  the  imperious 
Lugo's  inquiry  of  "  En  el  nombre  de  Dios,  que  hay  ? "  "A 
phantom  !  a  phantom  !  "  "  El  Diablo,"  said  a  vaquero,  out  of 
breath  ;  "LTna  Espanta,  muy  grande,"  said  another.  And  it 
required  all  of  the  authority  of  the  astonished  old  master  to 
learn  from  his  much-trusted  servant  that  an  unaccountable 
something — a  kind  of  a  what-is-it — had  appeared  among  the 
herds,  and  had  caused  the  utmost  demoralization,  not  only  to 
the  horses,  but  also  to  the  vaqueros. 

Fortunately  "Bill,  the  Patron  Saint  of  Los  Cuervos,  or  Bill 
the  Most  Remarkable,"  in  memory  of  whom  a  whole  chapter  will 
be  devoted  in  the  future,  was  at  the  castle  Lugo,  and  mount- 
ing the  old  Don's  favorite  charger,  which,  according  to  custom, 
was  held  in  constant  readiness  for  the  master's  use,  set  forth 
in  quest  of  the  phantom,  espanta,  or  "what  is  it?"  which 
had  produced  the  unaccountable  hubbub.  Bill  was  not  afraid 
of  phantom,  ghost  or  dragon  dire,  and  like  St.  George, 
went  forth  to  fight  and  conquer  the  monster  in  whatever  shape 
he  might  present  himself.  The  bravery  of  Bill  so  inspired 
the  major-domos  and  vaqueros,  that  in  a  short  space  of  time 
he  had  quite  an  army  at  his  heels,  and  at  sunset  returned 
to  the  ranch  leading  as  gay  an  old  mustang  as  the  reader  can 
imagine,  with  the  late  John  T.  Lafranco's  pioneer  sulky  in 
good  order  and  condition,  safe  and  sound,  hitched  to  him. 
The  jolly  laugh  of  Bill,  who  had  conquered,  subdued 


140  REMINISCENCES    OF    JL    RANGE  K 

and  captured  the  nondescript,  explained  everything.  Lan- 
franco,  returning  from  the  Fourth  of  July  festivities  at  San 
Pedro,  landed  on  the  roadside,  and  the  gentle  old  mustang, 
whose  forte  had  been  for  years  to  chase  his  fellows,  feeling 
himself  free,  took  to  the  herds  as  naturally  as  a  duck  to  a 
mud-puddle ;  the  plains  were  level  and  smooth,  the  sulky  kept 
its  legs,  so  did  the  old  horse,  and  the  herds,  frightened  at 
the  strange  appearance,  wildly  ran  away,  and  the  old  horse, 
equally  astonished  at  such  manifestation  of  unfriendliness, 
wildly  followed  from  herd  to  herd,  and  caused  the  strange 
commotion  as  above  stated.  The  "  phantom  tarantula"  was 
the  by-word  and  joke  of  the  day  for  a  long  time  thereafter. 

John  T.  Lanfrarico,  an  enterprising  young  merchant  of  Los 
Angeles,  in  all  truth  a  fortunate  fellow,  was  paying  court  to 
the  beautiful  Dofia  Petra,  daughter  of  Don  Jose  Sepulveda,  del 
Rancho  Palos  Verdes,  on  San  Pedro  Bay.  Notwithstanding 
he  was  a  fine  horseman,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  San  Francisco 
he  espied  the  "  phantom,"  and  was  so  impressed  with  the  ad- 
vantage its  possession  would  give  him,  purchased  and  shipped 
it  to  Los  Angeles,  and,  after  an  infinite  amount  of  trouble, 
found  au  honest  old  mustang,  who  was  induced  to  submit  to 
this  queer  change  in  the  programme  of  his  usefulness,  and  per- 
mitted himself  to  be  harnessed  to  the  "  phantom,"  and  the 
happy  possessor  of  this  novel  way  of  ambulation  became  the 
envied  of  all  the  fashionables  of  the  city,  gringo  as  well  as  to 
the  manor  born.  Lanfranco  married  Dona  Petra.  "  Tempus 
fugit ; "  so  says  the  old  school-book,  which  reminds  this  happy 
historian  that  his  experience  extends  somewhat  into  the,  to 
some,  dim  past,  yet,  feeling  all  the  bloom  and  flush  of  youth, 
looks  back  through  those  twenty-seven  years  as  to  a  midsum- 
mer night's  dream,  shaded  by  the  fleecy  clouds  of  gently  flitting 
time.  But  alas  !  when  he  sees  the  children  and  grandchildren 
of  John  T.  Lafranco  and  the  beautiful  Petra,  he  is  forcibly  re- 
minded of  the  text  that  "time  flies,"  and  has  taken  a  very  long 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  141 

flight  since  the  "phantom"  so  frightened  the  herders  and 
stampeded  the  herds  on  our  sunny  southern  plains. 

Many,  yes  !  too  many,  of  the  promising  incidents  of  those 
happy  times  terminated  in  unfortunate  ways.  Not  so  this 
marriage.  Both  husband  and  wife  have  passed  hence  to  the 
spirit-land,  leaving  four  daughters  well  provided  for,  the  three 
eldest  of  whom  have  married — the  first  to  Mr.  W.  S.  Maxwell, 
"a  native  son  of  the  Golden  West,"  and  the  pioneer  exporter 
of  wheat  from  Los  Angeles  ;  the  second  to  "Walter  S.  Moore, 
Esq.,  Deputy  Collector  of  Internal  Revenue  ;  and  the  third  to 
Mr.  Samuel  C.  Cook,  of  New  York,  while  the  last  is  yet  a 
schoolmiss. 

Alas !  alas  !  the  author,  by  the  above,  is  sadly  admonished 
that,  when  time  shall  have  taken  another  such  flight,  if  still  an 
inhabitant  of  this  land  of  magnificent  promise,  he  will  have 
become  an  old  pioneer. 

Says  the  lamented  Los  Angeles  centenial  historian:  "The 
first  Methodist  sermon  was  preached  June,  1850,  by  Rev.  J.  W. 
Briar,  at  the  adobe  house  of  J.  G.  Nichols,  where  the  Court  House 
now  stands."  This  pious  historical  fact  reminds  the  truthful 
historian  of  a  very  sharp  sermon  preached  by  a  divinely  sharp 
practitioner  in  1853.  Judging  from  the  prickly  name  of  our 
pioneer  preacher,  we  are  free  to  surmise  that  his  preaching  must 
have  been  pointed  and  sharp.  To  say  the  least  it  was  the 
entering  wedge  of  that  powerful  politico -religious  corporation, 
the  great  Methodist  church  that  now  wields  so  much  influence 
among  us  wayward  angels. 

In  the  summer  of  '53,  on  a  Sunday  forenoon,  quite  a  number 
of  Rangers  were  congregated  at  that  old  pioneer  place  of  resort, 
the  "  Montgomery,"  engaged  in  slinging  slings,  sipping  juleps, 
and  rolling  ten- pins,  when  a  tall,  lank,  well  dressed,  reverend 
looking  individual,  with  a  stiff  white  necktie,  a  stiff  stove-pipe 
plug,  with  long  black  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  and  reverendly 
combed  and  brushed  back  behind  his  ears.  The  reverend  looking 


142  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

gentleman  walked  past  the  bar  into  the  great  ten-pin  alley,  and 
addressing  the  crowd  said  :  "Gentlemen,  pray  don't  allow  me 
to'  trespass  upon  your  valuable  time,  but,  after  the  game  is 
concluded  I  have  a  request  to  make."  So  saying,  he  sat  him- 
self down  on  the  big  redwood  bench,  so  well  remembered  by 
the  Montgomery's  surviving  patrons.  The  game  at  once 
stopped  for  the  reason  that  the  .strange  appearance  and  the 
strange  request  of  the  stranger,  at  once  excited  general  curiosity, 
and  Getman  requested  the  gentleman  to  proceed.  The  stranger, 
rising  to  his  feet  and  divinely  smiling,  said:  "Gentlemen,  I 
have  a  favor  to  ask  which  I  hope  you  will  pardon,  and  at  the 
same  time  grant.  It  is  now  five  minutes  past  eleven.  I  was 
announced  to  preach  in  the  Court  House  at  eleven  o'clock 
sharp.  Punctual  to  the  minute  I  was  at  my  post,  but  not  a 
soul  confronted  me  to  hear  the  word  of  God  on  this  holy  Sab- 
bath. Gentlemen,  I  came  here  to  preach,  and  1  am  going  to 
preach,  even  if  to  dumb  adobe  walls,  for  you  know  the  old 
saying  that  '  walls  have  ears/  Now,  gentlemen,  I  ask  you  to 
do  me  the  favor  to  come  in  and  hear  me  preach,  if  for  only  a 

half  hour." 

« 

" Woo-wu-wi-will  you  st-sta-sta-nd  the  drinks  if  we  do?" 
said  stuttering  Aleck,  looking  wistfully  toward  the  bar  room. 

"  Silence,"  said  Getman  ;  "no  irreverent  joking  here.  Come, 
boys,  all  of  you  take  a  drink,  and  let's  go  in  and  hear  one  up 
and  down  old  fashioned  sermon  ;  may  be  it  will  remind  us  of 
the  old  folks  at  home.  I  am  going  to  close  the  house  on  this 
special  occasion." 

One  adobe  wall  separated  the  Montgomery  from  the  Court 
House,  and  after  having  imbibed  freely  of  fluid  inspiration, 
one  and  all  betook  themselves  to  the  rude  temple  of  the  law  to 
drink  in  the  promised  words  of  holy  inspiration  so  freely 
offered.  When  all  were  quietly  seated,  Getman,  who  as  well 
as  being  proprietor  of  the  Montgomery,  was  Lieutenant  of  the 
Hanger  Company,  suggested  to  the  pious  pioneer  that  if  he 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  143 

would  only  postpone  his  services  for  half  an  hour,  recruiting 
parties  would  be  sent  out  to  drum  up  a  respectable  congrega- 
tion. The  proposition  being  acceded  to,  parties  we're  dis- 
patched, one  to  the  Plaza  de  Toros,  one  to  Nigger  Alley, 
another  to  the  Ranger  Barracks,  another  to  Aleck  Gibson's, 
and  one  to  drum  around  generally.  Within  the  half  hour  the 
reverend  stranger  had  a  most  rousing  and  interesting  congrega- 
tion, composed  almost  exclusively  of  Bangers,  sports  and 
general  hard  cases,  and  divine  services  were  commenced.  The 
gifted  divine  preached  from  the  text  "Jesus  wept,"  and  well 
he  might,  says  this  righteous  Ranger.  The  sermon  was  good, 
it  was  entertaining,  argumentative  and  persuasive.  The  gist 
of  the  argument  was  that  even  angels  wept  at  the  general 
depravity  of  poor  human  nature,  as  seen  at  the  profane  Sab- 
bath exhibitions  of  bull  and  bear  fights,  maromas,  Mexican 
circuses,  horse  racing  and  other  kindred  entertainments,  which 
were  the  pride  and  glory  of  our  angelic  population  at  the  time 
referred  to.  He  eloquently  exhorted  us  to  abstain  from  ten- 
pins, mint  juleps  and  gin  slings  on  the  holy  Sabbath ;  also  to 
beware  of  billiards,  to  close  the  monte-banks,  and  fail  to 
patronize  on  that  day  the  iniquitous  places  of  amusement 
above  enumerated,  for,  said  the  holy  man,  "Jesus  weeps  at 
such  unholy  profanations."  The  eloquent  gentlemen  made  us 
all  feel  kind  of  ashamed,  for  every  one  of  us  was  guilty  of 
some  of  the  "unholy  profanations,"  and  when  the  service  was 
concluded,  Getman  made  a  few  remarks  and  solicited  a  contri- 
bution for  the  strange  preacher,  and  took  up  a  hat  into  which 
the  ever  generous  Cy  Lyon  tossed  a  slug.  The  hat  went 
around  and  the  gold  fell  in  plentiful  profusion,  one  conscience 
smitten  gambler,  it  was  said,  put  in  two  slugs,  and  when  the 
hat  had  concluded  its  grand  rounds  and  the  proceeds  were 
handed  over  to  the  impressive  preacher  he  had  a  stake  that 
would  have  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  most  sanguine  mis- 
sionary. The  gentleman  thanked  the  congregation  for  their 


144  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

noble  generosity  and  said  "  the  pious  fund  should  be  properly 
invested ; "  said  he  "  would  visit  San  Diego  and  endeavor  to 
return  and  preach  on  the  following  Sabbath/'  pronounced  his 
benediction,  and  the  congregation  dispersed.  The  week  rolled 
around  and  many  of  us  looked  forward  with  no  small  degree  of 
interest  for  the  return  of  the  strange  and  interesting  mis- 
sionary, but  he  failed  to  connect,  and  another  week  or  two 
rolled  by,  when  it  was  ascertained  that  the  miserable  wolf  in 
sheep's  clothing,  the  vagabond  who  had  assumed  the  livery  of 
heaven  to  be  used  in  the  service  of  hell,  was  a  notorious 
up-country  gambler,  who,  coming  among  us  terrestrial  angels 
flat  broke,  had  successfully  played  us  for  a  stake,  had  invested 
the  "pious  fund"  in  aguardiente,  red  shirts  and  striped  calico, 
and  had  gone  to  the  Colorado  to  gamble  and  trade  with  the 
Indians.  We  were  all  utterly  sold  and  swindled,  and  well  did 
we  merit  the  outrage,  and  for  the  following  reason  :  About  six 
months  prior  to  the  happening  of  the  sad  event  just  related, 
that  eminent  Christian  and  pioneer  missionary,  the  Rev.  Adam 
Bland,  had  flung  his  banner  to  the  breeze  and  was  then  strug- 
gling like  a  hero  to  establish  in  an  humble  way  the  first 
Protestant  church  among  us,  and  would  have  regarded  as  a 
great  godsend  the  handsome  sum  thrown  away  on  that  itiner- 
ant vagabond.  We  deserved  to  be  cheated,  for  the  reason  that 
we  should  have  supported  Mr.  Bland  and  helped  him  along  in 
the  good  cause  in  which  he  was  so  energetically  engaged. 

"  Reminiscences  of  a  Ranger  "  suggests  to  the  reader  border 
warfare,  bloody  raids,  reprisals  and  hand-to-hand  conflicts,  and 
all  of  the  Bombastes  Furioso  paraphernalia  of  yellow-backed 
literature,  so  appetizing  to  the  hoodlum  element  of  our  modern 
population  ;  and  after  the  relation  of  one  more  pacific  and  legal 
exploit  of  the  Rangers,  the  thirst  of  the  impatient  reader  shall 
be  appeased  with  blood.  The  author  confesses  that  this  his- 
tory so  far  has  been  more  of  lawsuits  than  of  war.  He  has 
written  of  the  great  court-martial  that  tried  and  sentenced  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  145 

City  Marshal,  He  has  told  of  the  first  divorce  suit  tried  'and 
determined  in  our  pioneer  courts,  and  of  other  suits.  He  wore 
out  a  brand  new  pen  in  giving  to  the  world  an  unbiased  and 
impartial  history  of  the  terrific  struggle  between  those  pioneer 
legal  Titans,  the  immortal  Juan  Largo  and  the  long  since 
dead  and  forgotten  Juan  Chapo,  for  the  possession  of  that  his- 
torical old  mustang,  that  was  the  stepping-stone  to  the  down- 
ward career  of  the  two  litigants.  The  great  Largo,  in  sheer 
desperation,  threw  himself  into  the  mad  maelstrom  of  politics, 
and  was  swallowed  up  in  its  hungry  vortex.  That  great  his- 
torical lawsuit  and  the  loss  of  that  $10  mustang  so  preyed 
upon  the  mind  of  the  poor,  .impecunious  Chapo,  that  two  years 
thereafter  he  was  sent  to  the  State  Insane  Asylum  and  died. 
That  horrible  legal  battle  ought  to  compensate  the  reader  for 
oceans  of  blood.  The  gentle  author  could  have  told  in  the 
meantime  of  bloody  broils,  of  assassinations  without  number,  of 
travelers  waylaid  and  murdered  almost  within  hearing  of  the 
old  plaza  church  bells.  He  could  have  written  of  men's  ears 
cut  off,  strung  on  strings,  and  paraded  as  trophies  in  our  halls 
and  bar-rooms.  He  could  have  horrified  the  Christian  reader 
by  telling  of  men's  heads  severed  from  their  bleeding  trunks, 
and  used  as  foot-balls  011  the  public  highways  ;  of  women  out- 
raged and  murdered  in  our  very  streets  ;  and  of  untold  horrors, 
which  the  writer  hopes  will  remain  untold  on  this  earth  for- 
ever. The  writer  abhors  the  recital  of  such  bloody  horrors,  but 
he  delights  in  taking  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  horrible  history 
of  pioneer  times,  and  will  proceed  to  relate  the  brief  facts  of 
another  great  legal  conflict  between  the  Ranger  Company  and 
a  pioneer  Irishman  for  the  possession  of  an  innocent  old  jack- 
ass, after  which  he  will  give  the  reader  some  blood. 

The  Rangers  went  on  a  midnight  secret  raid  about 
the  month  of  August  '53,  of  course,  a  strong  impression 
prevailed  that  Joaquin  was  in  the  city.  So  it  was  arranged 

that    the    whole    Ranger    Company,    mounted    and   on  foot, 
10 


146  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER. 

should  make  a  midnight  sally  and  search  every  suspicious 
house  and  place  within  the  city  limits.  High  expectations 
of  success  were  entercained.  At  the  hour  of  mid-night 
three  parties  on  foot  set  forth  to  operate  in  Nigger  Alley, 
Sonora  and  other  inside  places,  while  parties  of  horsemen 
made  rapid  raids  on  all  the  Jacals  and  vineyards,  the 
suburbs  and  out  of  the  way  corners.  The  search  was  well 
conducted  and  thorough,  but  utterly  without  fruits,  and  at 
daylight  all  the  Rangers  had  reported  back  to  headquarters, 
crestfallen  and  disappointed,  all  without  captures  and  trophies 
except  that  one  party  .brought  in  a  forlorn-looking  jackass  that 
was  promptly  spouted  in  Nigger  Alley  for  aguardiente,  and 
became  the  prolific  source  of  the  remarkable  lawsuit  that  is 
now  the  subject  matter  of  history.  On  the  day  following,  an 
Irishman  discovered  and  laid  claim  to  his  ass-ship,  which  said 
claim  was  vigorously  resisted  by  a  ferocious  looking  Sonoreno 
who  kept  a  cantina  in  Niggar  Alley,  and  had  advanced  the 
liquid  loan  on  the  jackass  security.  That  great  and-  humorous 
pioneer  lawyer,  General  Ezra  Drown,  appeared  for  the  defend- 
ant Mexican,  who  called  in  the  festive  Rangers  to  defend  his 
right  to  the  possession  of  the  embargoed  burro.  I  believe 
Cameron  Thorn-  represented  the  Irish  plaintiff,  and  a  native  Cal- 
ifornian  presided  as  Justice  of  the  Peace.  The  Rangers  chival- 
rously backed  up  the  defendant,  and  threatening  to  maintain 
legal  title  to  the  bitter  end,  demanded  a  jury  trial.  All  parties 
being  present,  including  the  Constable  and  jackass,  and  the 
jury  being  duly  sworn  to  try  the  case  and  true  verdict  render 
according  to  law  and  evidence,  the  plaintiff  Irishman  was 
sworn  and  opened  out,  but  before  he  could  say  jackass,  defend- 
ant's attorney  brought  him  up  on  a  legal  round  turn,  and 
asked  him  where  he  was  born.  He  answered  that  he  was  born 
in  County  Downs,  in  the  ancient  and  honorable  kingdom  of 
Ireland.  Defendant's  attorney  then  objected  to  the  admission 
of  the  evidence  on  the  ground  that  defendant  was  a  citizen  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  147 

the  United  States,  and  that  the  constitution  of  our  great 
country  precluded  Irishmen  from  giving  evidence  against  an 
American.  It  was  very  up-hill  work  in  getting  at  justice  in 
that  Court  for  the  reason  that  neither  of  the  attorneys  could 
speak  a  word  of  Spanish,  and  the  Judge  could  not  understand 
a  word  of  English,  and  the  two  lawyers  had  to  make  their 
arguments  and  present  their  authorities  through  the  medium 
of  the  "most  useful  man,"  who  was  the  court  interpreter  on 
that  great  trial.  The  legal  blows  dealt  and  returned  Avere 
ponderous.  The  authorities  cited  were  voluminous  and  heavy  ; 
how  they  were  interpreted  and  presented  to,  or  understood  by 
the  Court  are  to-day  enveloped  in  the  mists  of  mystery  and 
sleep  in  the  grave  with  the  "  most  useful  man."  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  after  two  days  of  Herculean  legal  conflict,  the  Court 
rendered  its  judicial  fiat  on  the  legal  fate  of  the  irate  and  game 
son  of  Erin  by  saying,  "  that  he  himself,  the  Court,  had  per- 
sonally read  the  great  treaty  of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo,  and  knew 
that  by  said  treaty  the  defendant  was  a  full-fledged  American 
citizen,  and  as  plaintiff's  attorney  had  failed  to  present  any 
manner  of  treaty  whatever  that  made  the  same  transformation 
for  the  Irishman  the  Court  was  reluctantly  forced  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  the  evidence  offered,"  and  so  the  Court  ruled.  The 
game  Irishman,  not  in  the  least  discomfited  by  being  legally 
sent  to  grass,  at  the  call  of  time  came  smiling  to  the  scratch 
and  presented  two  stalwart  Californian  boys  to  prove  his  legal 
ownership  to  the  contested  property.  Defendant's  attorney, 
fully  alive  to  the  great  responsibility  resting  on  his  broad  legal 
shoulders,  dealt  plaintiff  a  stunning  blow  by  objecting  to  the 
proposed  evidence  on  the  ground  that  the  witnesses  were  not 
white  men,  and  that  defendant  being  a  white  man,  none  but 
white  men  could  testify  against  him.  Plaintiff's  counsel 
maintained  that  having  assumed  the  affirmative  the  burden  of 
proof  rested  on  defendant  to  prove  the  witnesses  not  to  be 
white  men.  Defendant's  attorney  accordingly  produced  as 


148  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

experts  in  physiology  the  three  learned  men  of  the  city, 
Doctors  Swim,  Gardner  and  Hannum,  who,  after  testifying  to 
their  scientific  attainments,  were  asked  if  they  could  by  any 
scientific  physiological  certainty,  determine  the  line  of  demarka- 
tion  between  a  person  of  pure  white  blood  and  a  mongrel. 
Answering  emphatically  in  the  affirmative,  they  were  required 
to  examine  the  two  witnesses  and  inform  the  Court  if  they 
were  white  men  or  mongrels.  For  the  information  of  the 
reader  of  more  modern  importation  it  is  proper  to  know  that 
at  that  time  California  was  an  ultra  white  man's  government. 
The  learned  trio  conferred  together  for  a  minute,  when  Dr. 
Gardner  came  up  to  one  of  the  witnesses  and  seizing  him  by 
the  nose  and  chin,  ordered  him  to  open  his  mouth,  the  witness 
indignantly  resented  the  familiarity  and  glared  defiantly  on  the 
learned  man  in  physiology,  laid  his  hand  threateningly  on  the 
knife  that  was  so  conveniently  sheathed  in  his  leathern  legging, 
and  said  :  "Que  quierestu?"  "(What  do  you  want?)  The 
learned  man,  somewhat  taken  aback  at  this  unexpected  opposi 
tioii  to  his  scientific  demonstration,  called  on  counsel  and  Court 
for  assistance  and  protection.  The  Court  very  sensibly  inquired 
of  the  doctor  the  object  of  his  unceremonious  interference 
with  the  witness'  legal  right  to  protection  from  rude  personal 
violence.  Said  the  doctor,  addressing  himself  to  the  inter- 
preter, "  Inform  his  honor  that  I  was  about  to  demonstrate 
to  the  Court  the  difference  in  the  six  salivary  glands  of  a 
white  man  and  those  of  mixed  blood.  Say  to  the  Court  that 
in  a  white  man  the  sub-maxillary  gland,  which  is  situated 
within  the  lower  jaw  anterior  to  the  angle  and  which  opens 
into  the  mouth  by  the  side  of  the  frrenum  lingua1,  and  the 
lingual  gland  which  is  situated  between  the  mucous  membrane 
on  each  side  of  the  frrenurn  lingiue  are  elongated;  in  the  mixed 
breed  they  are  round."  This  scientific  lecture  being  duly  inter- 
preted to  the  Court,  the  Judge  said,  "No  entiende,"  and 
looked  worried. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  149 

Defendant's  attorney  then  inquired  of  the  learned  experts  if 
there  was  no  other  way  of  determining  to  a  scientific  certainty 
the  great  question  at  issue,  and  the  grave  and  reverend  seignors 
again  mysteriously  consulted.  Then  Dr.  Gardner  answered 
and  said.  "  Yes,  certainly  there  is,"  seizing  the  upper  and  lower 
eyelid  of  the  other  witness  and  turning  his  eye-ball  inside  out, 
and  was  greatly  astonished  at  the  subject  springing  to  his  feet, 
with  tears  streaming  from  one  eye  and  sparks  of  indignation 
flashing  from  the  other,  and  yelling  carajo  !  The  Court  or- 
dered the  interpreter  to  inquire  of  the  learned  physiologist 
what  he  meant  by  such  unseemly  conduct,  and  through  the 
same  channel  of  converse  the  doctor  addressed  himself  to  the 
Court. 

"  Inform  his  honor  that  I  was  about  to  demonstrate  that  in 
a  white  man  the  two  small  orifices  called  punctalachrimalia,  at 
their  intersection  with  the  nasal  ducts,  that  is  to  say  " — 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  defendant's  attorney,  "his  honor  will 
be  unable  to  understand  a  scientific  anatomical  lecture  through 
the  medium  of  an  interpreter.  Is  there  no  more  practical  man- 
ner of  settling  this  question  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  responded  the  doctor,  drawing  from  his  pocket  a 
formidable  pair  of  old  pullicans  ;  "  you  see,  in  the  white  man 
the  wisdom  teeth  grow  straight  down  into  the  body  of  the  jaw, 
and  have  three  strongly  developed  roots  ;  in  the  black  or  mixed 
breeds  the  wisdom  teeth  grow  solidly  and  firmly  into  the 
ramus,  and  have  but  one  root,  and  to  settle  this  matter  defi- 
nitely I  will  now  proceed  to  extract  a  wisdom  tooth,"  and  the 
doctor  returned  to  the  charge,  but  the  birds  had  flown.  The 
prey  had  escaped,  and  from  that  day  to  this  the  author  has 
never  heard  of  any  of  our  local  courts  settling  that  interesting 
question.  The  witnesses  saved  the  Court  the  trouble  of 
passing  on  their  legal  status  by  passing  beyond  the  Court's 
jurisdiction.  The  game  Irishman  was  knocked  out  of  time, 
and  having  no  bottle-holder,  flung  up  the  sponge,  and  the 


150  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Custody  of  the  jackass  was  legally  awarded  to  the  constitutional 
American  citizen,  who  called  on  the  Constable  for  the  property. 
The  Constable  was  found  drunk  at  the  Hanger  barracks,  and 
on  the  day  following,  the  jackass  was  found  in  an  up-town  can- 
tina,  where  the  Rangers  had  a  second  time  spouted  him  for  a 
liquid  advance,  and  the  Constable  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the 
speculation.  Another  suit  followed,  not  less  interesting  than 
the  first,  and  while  that  was  in  process  of  litigation  the  jackass 
was  again  abducted,  and  served  to  keep  up  steam  at  the  Ranger 
barracks  both  night  and  day  for  over  a  fortnight. 

Reader,  bear  with  me  another  law  suit  and  then  we  will 
have  reached  our  bloody  chapter.  B.  Colin,  a  noted  merchant, 
was  at  Ehrenburg,  Arizona,  and  got  into  a  law  suit  in  a  Jus- 
tice's Court.  The  Constable  was  a  Mexican.  Cohn  had  no 
lawyer,  while  his  opponent  was  represented  by  the  celebrated 
counsellor,  Charles  Granville  Johnston,  Esq.,  who  mounted  his 
legal  high  horse  and  was  demolishing  Cohn  with  quartz-crush- 
ing power.  Cohn  stepped  outside  the  court-room  door  and 
beckoned  the  Constable  to  him,  and  slipping  a  coin  in  the  ever 
open  official  palm  said,  "  Do  you  see  that  fellow  cutting  up  so 
there?"  "SiSefior,  como  no?"  (and  why  not),  answered  the 
Constable.  "Weil,"  said  Cohn,  "I  want  you  to  take  that 
fellow  to  the  lock  up."  "  Da  me  im  papel  pues;"  (give  me  a 
paper),  said  the  Constable,  and  B.  Cohn  stepped  inside  the 
court  room  for  a  moment  and  returned  with  one  of  his  printed  bill 
headings  and  gave  it  to  the  Constable,  who  said  "Esta  bueno." 
Then  the  Constable  invited  the  counsellor  outside  of  the  court 
room  and  called  a  couple  of  stalwart  Sonoreflos  and  informed 
them  that  he  had  a  heavy  and  refractory  prisoner  to  carry 
to  the  calaboose,  and  desired  their  assistance,  and  the  three 
piled  in  on  poor  Johnston  and  yanked  him  off  to  jail  so 
fast  that  he  hardly  knew  how  he  got  there,  and  long  before  he 
regained  his  liberty  Cohn  had  vanquished  his  opponent  and 
won  his  suit. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  151 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  Bleody  Chapter — Murderers  and  Bandits  Flee  From  San  Luis  Obispo  — 
The  Rangers  Capture  the  Whole  Band  After  a  Sharp  Skirmish  in 
Bliss'  Vineyard — A  F*emale  Fighter — All  Taken  to  San  Luis  Obispo 
and  Hung — The  Murder  of  Porter  and  Pursuit  of  Vergara — Stanley, 
Banning  and  Winston— A  Ride  for  Life— Hand  to  Hand  Fight — 
Vergara  Escapes,  Reaches  Yuma  and  is  Killed  by  the  Guard — Don 
Santiago  Arguello — Major  Heintzelrnan. 


chapter  is  to  be  a  bloody  one.  Contrary  to  th 
natural  instincts  of  the  chronicler,  the  truth  of  his- 
tory demands  that  once  more  he  is  to  draw  the 
attention  of  the  gentle  and  refined  reader  from  ludicrous  legal 
exploits  of  pioneer  lawyers,  to  a  bloody  relation  of  murder, 
rapine,  treachery,  midnight  robbery  and  assassinations  most 
bloody. 

In  September,  1853,  the  country  in  the  southern  mines 
became  too  hot  for  many  of  the  bad  characters  who  had 
operated  under  the  famous  Joaquin,  and  small  bands  would 
fly  from  the  central  organization  and  drift  southward,  signal- 
izing their  passage  by  deeds  of  blood  and  pillage,  and  woe  be 
to  the  unfortunate  gringo  who  fell  in  their  way.  Cattle  buyers 
on  their  way  south  in  parties  of  one,  two  or  more,  were 
invariably  met  and  murdered  by  these  fleeing  bandits.  One 
party  of  seven,  including  one  woman,  whose  name  I  knew, 
but  forget,  murdered  a  party  of  Americans  somewhere  not  far 
above  San  Luis  Obispo,  after  which  they  halted  long  enough 
in  the  town  to  dispose  of  some  of  the  effects  of  the  murdered 
party  and  then  continued  their  march  southward.  But  few 
Americans  then  resided  in  San  Luis  Obispo,  and  the  Sheriff 


152  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

feeling  too  weak  for  successful  pursuit  took  passage  on  the 
steamer  bound  south,  landed  at  San  Pedro  and  arrived  in 
Los  Angeles  late  on  a  Saturday  evening,  and  at  once  made 
known  the  object  of  his  visit  to  Captain  Hope,  of  the  Rangers, 
whose  name  and  the  fame  of  whose  company  had  become  a 
household  word  with  all  the  American  settlers  in  the  counties 
south  of  Monterey,  and  a  like  terror  to  the  bandits.  Detec- 
tives (and  we  had  detectives,  and  money  with  which  to  pay 
them)  were  sent  out  to  inquire  if  suck  a  party  had  as  yet 
made  its  appearance  in  the  city,  and  at  noon  on  Sunday  it 
was  ascertained  beyond  a  doubt  that  the  identical  party  was 
then  encamped  under  the  sombre  shades  of  a  great  willow 
hedge  in  the  rear  of  Mr.  Rowland's  (now  Bliss')  vineyard. 
That  they  were  on  the  qui  vive  was  a  matter  of  certainty,  for, 
said  the  informer,  "The  horses  are  all  saddled,  and  the  men 
booted  and  spurred."  Our  captain  accordingly  made  his 
dispositions  to  successfully  bag  his  game. 

The  first  move  was  to  send  a  party  by  way  of  Old  Aliso 
street  to  Boyle  Heights,  there  to  lay  in  wait,  anticipating  that 
if  the  party  escaped  from  the  vineyard  they  would  flee  in  that 
direction.  Smaller  parties  were  then  sent  down  San  Pedro 
street  and  came  up  in  the  rear  of  the  villains,  and  were  to  be 
given  sufficient  time  to  get  into  position  before  the  main  move 
was  made  directly  from  the  barracks  to  the  robbei  camp,  under- 
the  captain  himself.  At  the  appointed  time  the  captain  moved 
quietly  down  Alameda  street  and  into  Rowland's  vineyard,  and 
by  the  time  we  had  well  passed  the  house  we  heard  the  clatter 
of  fleeing  horsemen  through  the  cornfield,  inside  the  willow 
hedge.  We  had  started  the  game,  and  one  long,  blast  of  the 
bugle  notified  the  watchers  on'  Boyle  Heights  and  the  parties 
in  waiting  on  the  south  to  look  out  for  the  enemy,  and  the  pur- 
suit commenced.  Did  the  reader  ever  engage  in  a  cavalry  skir- 
mish in  a  cornfield  ?  If  not,  he  has  failed  to  participate  in  one 
of  the  most  exciting  pleasures  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive ; 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  153' 

as  the  girls  say  about  dancing,  "  it  is  perfectly  splendid."  In 
a  few  moments  the  pop,  pop,  pop,  of  the  revolver,  the  answer- 
ing yell  and  hurrah  of  the  intercepting  Rangers,  the  defiant 
carajo  of  the  robbers,  and  the  crashing  of  the  breaking  corn- 
stalks, admonished  the  captain  that  the  game  had  become 
interesting,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  among  them.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  you  could  hear  the  pop  of  the  revolver,  the 
yell  and  carajo,  in  every  direction  for  a  half  mile  or  more  away. 
The  thieves  having  broken  and  scattered,  nothing  could  be 
seen.  The  corn,  the  hedges,  the  vineyard  and  trees,  would  oc- 
casionally and  momentarily  reveal  a  flying  and  pursuing  horse- 
man. The  Rangers  separated,  each  bent  on  securing  his  man, 
and  the  chase  became  intensely  exciting.  More  corn  was 
trampled  down,  more  grapes  destroyed,  in  the  skirmish  and 
pursuit,  the  writer  ventures  to  say,  than  were  ever  paid  for. 
By  sunset  the  Ranger  company  had  reported  back  to  head- 
quarters, and  the  whole  party  of  robbers,  horses,  bag  and! 
baggage,  were  our  prisoners,  and  were  duly  placed  under  guard, 
including  as  pretty  a  little  brunette  woman  as  ever  excited  the 
lustful  desires  of  a  Mormon  missionary,  and,  strange  to  sayy 
the  latter  was  the  last  to  surrender,  used  her  revolver  like  a 
trooper,  and  was  the  only  one  that  escaped  to  Boyle  Eights,, 
which  she  did,  and  fell  unexpectedly  into  the  arms  of  the  dis- 
appointed Rangers  who  were  there  in  anxious  waiting.  The1 
seven  who  appeared  at  San  Luis  Obispo  had  increased  to  ten,, 
not  counting  the  womau. 

On  Monday  morning  rumors  of  lynching  began  to  circulate,, 
and  by  noon  it  became  quite  evident  that  unless  the  robbers  were 
protected  by  the  Rangers  their  doom  was  certain.  The  United 
States  District  Attorney,  however,  went  among  the  lynchers, 
and  represented  to  them  that  the  people  of  San  Luis  Obispo 
had  the  best  right  to  administer  justice  in  this  instance,  and  it 
*  would  not  be  neighborly  courtesy  for  us  to  intervene  in  so  deli- 
cate a  matter,  and  that  "it  was  not  our  hang,"  and  Captain 


154  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

Hope'informed  them  that  the  Rangers  would  deliver  the  prison- 
ers to  the  Sheriff  of  San  Luis  Ohispo  on  board  the  up-bound 
steamer,  and  would  furnish  him  a  guard,  if  necessary,  on  the 
passage  up.  On  this  emphatic  assurance  the  lynchers  subsided, 
the  prisoners,  including  the  amorous-looking  little  brunette, 
were  safely  delivered  on  board  Haley's  little  steamer,  were  so 
securely  ironed  as  to  obviate  the  necessity  for  a  guard,  and 
arrived  at  the  landing  of  San  Luis  Obispo.  The  town  being 
seven  miles  from  the  landing,  the  Sheriff  sent  out  for  a  guard 
to  safely  escort  his  prisoners  to  town,  and  the  steamer  waited. 
Haley  was  the  most  accommodating  captain  that  ever  ran  on 
this  coast,  and  somewhat  more  will  be  said  in  due  time  of  this 
gallant  old  salt,  who  has  so  gracefully  converted  his  old  marine 
charts  into  legal  parchment. 

With  the  least  possible  delay,  a  detachment  of  citizens  came 
down  to  assist  in  safely  landing  the  chained  bandits,  and  then 
safely  escorted  them  to  the  first  tree  that  presented  itself  on 
the  bleak,  treeless  plain,  and  in  the  most  gentle  but  positive 
manner  possible  proceeded  to  string  up  the  whole  party,  includ- 
ing that  game  little  vixen  aforesaid — that  frail,  gentle  looking 
brunette — and  so  endeth  the  first  act  in  this  bloody  chapter. 

About  the  same  time  an  American  cattle  buyer  named 
Porter,  while  coming  from  the  Dominguez  ranch  to  the  city, 
was  murdered  and  robbed  in  the  outskirts,  on  Alameda  street, 
by  a  man  who  had  accompanied  him  in  the  capacity  of  servant 
and  interpreter.  The  writer,  on  his  way  from  San  Pedro  to 
Los  Angeles,  was  informed  at  the  Dominguez  place  that  the 
American  and  his  servant  had  just  left  for  the  city,  and  rode 
hard  to  come  up  with  them,  for  the  sake  of  company,  but  took 
the  road  that  came  in  by  way  of  San  Pedro  street.  Dr.  Wilson 
Jones,  riding  in  from  the  Lugo's  at  about  an  hour  before  sun- 
down, came  on  the  murdered  man,  dead  and  bleeding,  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  rode  rapidly  to  town  to  give  the  alarm. 
Ranger  parties  were  at  once  sent  out  in  all  directions,  although 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  155 

it  seemed  most  certain  that  the  assassin  would  go  toward  San 
Diego.  Accordingly  a  well -mounted  party,  under  Lieutenant 
Stanley,  took  the  road  in  that  direction.  Stanley  always  was  a 
hard  rider,  and  I  presume  that,  notwithstanding  the  silver 
threads  of  time  that  now  besprinkle  the  head  of  the  gallant  old 
Ranger,  denoting  the  approach  of  an  honorable  old  age, 
Stanley,  if  called  on  by  duty  or  necessity,  could  make  the  same 
ride  again.  Phineas  Banning,  always  ready  to  ride  with  the 
Bangers  as  well  as  to  supply  them  with  means,  and  Dr.  Win- 
ston, then  more  of  a  light  weight  than  at  present,  were  of  the 
party,  and  I  believe  the  two  Marshall  boys  were  also  along. 
The  party  rode  all  night,  and  ate  a  hasty  breakfast  at  San 
Juan  Capistrano,  where  they  learned  that  the  fugitive  mur- 
derer was  only  a  half  hour  ahead  of  them  when  they  entered 
the  little  mission  town.  In  the  meantime  it  had  been  ascer- 
tained in  the  city  that  the  murderer  was  one  Manuel  Vergara, 
a  most  notorious  up-country  assassin  and  robber,  who  had  in 
some  way  ingratiated  himself  into  the  confidence  of  Mr.  Porter, 
and  in  riding  into  town  as  above  described  had,  from  behind, 
shot  him  through  the  head,  and  robbed  him  of  a  considerable 
amount  that  he  carried  with  him  to  pay  on  any  purchases  of 
cattle  he  might  make.  Lieutenant  Stanley,  who  had  intended 

*  f 

procuring  fresh  horses,  at  once  mounted  his  men,  and  driv- 
ing their  spurs  in  the  bleeding  flanks  of  their  highly-groomed 
and  well-fed,  choice  mustangs,  without  the  loss  of  a  minute 
dashed  out  of  the  village  in  hot  and  eager  pursuit. 

The  fugitive  was  now  an  hour  ahead  of  his  pursuers,  and  the 
great  fear  of  the  Rangers  was  that  he  would  procure  a  fresh 
horse,  and  gain  this  great  advantage,  otherwise  they  felt  confi- 
dent in  their  ability  to  overtake  him.  The  Rangers  had  the 
best  horses  the  country  afforded  ;  they  were  well-fed,  groomed 
and  exercised  every  day,  and  were  in  good  keeping  to  be  pushed 
to  the  utmost  endurance  of  a  California  mustang,  and  it  is  con- 
ceded that  a  well-kept  California  horse  will  endure  the  most 


156  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

incredibly  hard  rides.  The  Rangers  pushed  on,  and  as  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  Mission  of  San  Luis  Key  they  were  glad- 
dened by  the  sight  of  a  horseman  riding  rapidly  away.  Then 
commenced  the  race  for  life.  The  fugitive  was  a'mile  ahead  of 
Stanley's  party,  and,  finding  himself  pursued,  made  every  effort 
to  gain  on  his  pursuers.  But  the  Rangers  gained  on  him  ; 
every  mile  reduced  the  distance,  and  five  miles  from  the  Mis- 
sion the  Rangers,  sometimes  one  ahead,  sometimes  another, 
commenced  to  fire  on  him  with  their  revolvers,  and  at  every 
shot  the  desperate  scoundrel  would  howl  back  his  defiant 
carajo,  and  so  the  chase  continued  for  another  five  miles,  when 
one  by  one  the  Rangers'  horses  commenced  dropping  behind, 
and  the  murderer's  horse  seemed  as  fresh  as  ever.  The  dis- 
tance passed  over  in  that  flight  and  pursuit  was  full  one  hun- 
dred miles,  and  the  writer  would  shrink  from  the  relation  of 
such  a  personal  exploit,  but  not  being  of  that  party  he  declares 
the  truth  of  what  he  writes.  One  Ranger's  horse,  however, 
continued  to  gain  on  the  fugitive,  and  soon  the  two  were  far 
ahead  of  the  other  Rangers.  Whether  it  was  Stanley  or  one  of 
the  Marshall  boys,  or  Banning,  who  continued  to  gain  on  the 
fleeing  murderer,  the  writer^  is  not  sure,  but  is  under  the  im- 
pression that  it  was  Green  Marshall.  Finally  the  pursuing 
Ranger  came  so  close  up'to  the  pursued,  that  he  turned  in  his 
saddle  and  commenced  to  fire  back  at  the  Ranger.  And  thus 
the  race  continued  until  both  had  fired  their  last  shot  without 
effect.  And  let  the  reader  be  informed  that  men  so  blown  and 
excited,  so  worn  out  and  unsteady,  are  apt,  under  such  circum- 
stances, to  shoot  wide  of  the  mark.  The  Ranger  continued  to 
gain  on  the  fugitive  until  the  two  were  brought  side  by  side, 
and  commenced  striking  at  each  other  with  their  empty  revol- 
vers. Their  horses  were  staggering  and  reeling,  and  about  to 
fall  exhausted  on  the  plain. 

The  Ranger,  out  of  breath,  demanded  the  surrender  of  the 
fugitive,  who,  with  glaring  eyeballs  and  bated  breath,  hissed 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  157 

defiance  through  his  closely  set  teeth.  At  last  the  Ranger 
seized  the  rein  of  the  fugitive's  bridle,  and  while  holding  on  with 
one  hand  he  tried  to  beat  him  down  with  his  revolver  in  the 
other.  Vergara  was  a  full  match  for  his  antagonist,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  drawing  his  bowie,  and  in  making  his  first  cut  at  the 
Ranger  cut  his  own  bridle  rein,  which  freeing  his  horse  from 
the  hold  of  the  Ranger,  who  in  the  conflict  had  dropped  his 
own  rein,  the  two  became  in  a  moment  separated.  Ver- 
gara drove  his  spurs  into  his  horse  and  he  shot  ahead  like  a 
bomb-shell,  the  Ranger's  horse  veered  off  to  one  side,  and  in  a 
harsh  endeavor  to  bring  him  up,  he  reeled,  fell  and  lay 
exhausted  on  the  plain.  Vergara,  with  a  triumphant  shout, 
pressed  forward,  and  when  the  fagged  out  Rangers,  who  had 
been  left  behind,  came  up,  the  fugitive  murderer  had  passed 
out  of  sight  and  escaped.  Being  unable  to  procure  fresh 
horses  for  the  pursuit  the  disappointed  Rangers,  utterly  fagged 
out,  exhausted,  on  foot,  leading  and  urging  on  their  broken 
steeds,  managed  to  reach  San  Diego  and  laid  the  matter  of 
their  pursuit  before  that  sterling  old  patriot,  Don  Santiago 
Arguello,  who  procured  an  Indian  and  paid  him  a  large  sum 
to  carry  a  dispatch  to  the  commanding  officer  at  Yuma,  and  to 
double  the  amount  if  he  should  reach  there  ahead  of  Vergara, 
surmising  correctly  that  the  fugitive  would  make  his  way  to 
that  place.  Procuring  a  fresh  horse  Vergara  pushed  on  to 
Fort  Yuma,  where  he  camped  on  the  edge  of  the  river,  just 
below  the  ferry.  Major  Heintzelman,  who  commanded  at 
Yuma,  had  in  the  meantime  received  Don  Santiago's  dispatch, 
the  Indian  having  successfully  accomplished  his  mission,  sent  a 
Sergeant  and  file  of  soldiers  down  to  bring  the  suspicious  look- 
ing Mexican  to  headquarters.  Vergara  refused  to  go,  drew  his 
revolver  on  the  Sergeant,  and  was  shot  dead  by  the  soldiers. 


158  RKMINTSCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Murtlcr  of  Jack  Whaling — An  Array  of  Fair  and  Frail"  Sisters— More- 
no's Band— Robbery  of  Lelong's  House — Moreno  Kills  His  Comrades 
for  Blood  Money — Capture  of  Moreno — The  Whole  City  on  Guard — Solo- 
mon Lazard's  Bravery — Mayor  Nichol's  Message  to  the  Council — All  is 
Mystery. 


the  Rangers  were  yet  in  pursuit  of  Vergara, 
old  Jack  Whaling,  a  brave,  honest  Irishman  who 
had  succeeded  the  Arkansas  man  as  City  Marshal, 
was  assassinated  boldly  and  publicly,  in  open  daylight,  on  a 
corner  of  our  most  public  street.  His  assassin,  by  name 
Senati,  wiped  the  blood  of  the  victim  from  his  knife,  gave 
expression  to  some  fierce  maledictions  against  the  hated  gringos, 
quietly  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away.  The  town  was 
thrown  into  an  intense  excitement,  a  meeting  was  held,  a  com- 
mittee of  safety  was  appointed,  and  it  was  resolved  to  purify 
the  city  and  banish  all  the  bad  characters.  Then,  after  a 
reconsideration  of  the  subject  in  secret  conclave  by  the  com- 
mittee, it  was  agreed  that  the  step  resolved  upon  would  be 
dangerous,  for  the  reason  that  the  bad  characters  were  evidently 
in  the  majority,  and  might  turn  out  and  banish  the  committee 
and  their  backers.  The  Rangers  were  all  out,  and  the  utmost 
alarm  pervaded  the  civil  part  of  the  community.  And  now  a 
digression  is  proposed,  and  the  reader — especially  the  mercantile 
reader — is  informed  that  the  first  commercial  failure  in  Los 
Angeles  was  that  of  a  Mexican  merchant,  Atanacio  Moreno, 
who  failed  about  August,  '53,  and  not  only  disappeared  from 
commercial  circles,  but  also  from  the  city.  Moreno  was  a  tall, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  159 

straight,  fine  appearing  white  man,  belonged  to  the  best  blood 
of  Sonora,  and  up  to  the  time  of  his  disappearance  stood  well 
in  society,  and  was  highly  respected.  Every  few  days  after  the 
murder  of  Whaling,  a  robbery,  or  a  murder,  or  some  other 
outrage  would  be  reported  from  some  part  of  the  county.  The 
Rangers  were  kept  busy  but  failed  to  make  any  important 
discoveries  or  captures.  Sometimes  they  would  be  sent  to  the 
Soledad  Canon,  or  the  Santa  Clara  Valley  ;  sometimes  to  San 
Juan  Capistrano  and  around  the  country  generally,  following 
the  Will-o'-the-wisp  of  some  false  alarm  without  any  important 
result.  In  the  meantime,  news  came  of  the  killing  of  Joaquin, 
and  the  dispersal  of  his  band  in  Monterey  county,  and  that  the 
frightened  bandits  were  making  their  way  southward.  The 
excitement  and  alarm  was  fearful,  the  city  was  actually  in  a 
state  of  seige,  business  was  at  a  standstill,  and  so  October 
passed  and  November  set  in. 

And  now  for  another  digression.  In  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber the  steamer  brought  a  small  army  of  fair  and  frail  sisters 
from  San  Francisco,  the  pioneers  of  the  foreign  element  in  the 
propagation  of  the  social  evil  in  our'angelic  and  highly  refined 
civilization.  "We  had  thieves  and  cut-throats  of  all  nations 
under  the  sun,  but  up  to  November,  '53,  the  monde  and  the 
demi-monde  was  represented  by  ladies  to  the  manor  born. 
The  frail  pioneers  established  themselves  in  a  large  house  on 
Upper  Main  street,  and  made  their  debut  by  giving  a  grand 
opening  ball,  to  which  they  invited  all  the  principal  gam- 
blers of  the  city,  and  on  the  night  of  the  brilliant  affair,  when 
dancing  and  drinking  had  grown  to  a  fever  heat,  when  mad 
revelry  had  run  riot,  a  loud  knock  demanded  admittance  to  the 
ball-room.  On  the  door  being  opened  a  dozen  Mexican 
bandits,  armed  to  the  teeth,  marched  boldly  into  the  room  and 
covered  the  astonished  revelers  with  their  revolvers  and  car- 
bines. The  leader  was  masked  and  spoke  English.  He 
informed  the  gamblers  that  the  house  was  surrounded  by  a 


160  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

hundred  armed  men,  and  if  they  offered  the  least  resistance 
they  would  be  murdered  without  mercy,  but  if  they  submitted 
quietly  they  would  be  spared.  The  robbers,  for  such  they 
were,  then  went  through  and  plundered  the  house,  finding  most 
of  the  gambler's  overcoats  and  revolvers  in  the  adjoining  wine- 
room.  After  which  they  passed  the  gamblers  out  of  the  ball- 
room into  the  wine-room,  searching  and  robbing  them  one  by 
one  until  the  last  man  was  fleeced,  when  they  proceeded  to 
search  and  rob  the  frail  sisters,  stripping  them  of  their  valuable 
jewelry  and  money.  They  then  bade  the  household  "  buenas 
noches,"  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  away. 

The  robbers  betook  themselves  to  the  vineyard  of  a  well-to- 
do  Frenchman,  who  dwelt  in  that  old-fashioned  adobe  house 
that  now  stands  on  the  south  side  of  New  Aliso  street,  just  be- 
yond the  venerable  old  Aliso  tree,  under  the  sombre  shades  of 
which  the  thieves  halted  and  dismounted,  and  one  part  of  the 
band  holding  the  horses,  the  others  entered  the  house,  and 
after  binding  the  owner,  proceeded  to  search  the  house  for 
money  and  valuables.  By  dint  of  rifling  drawers  and  trunks, 
and  by  threats,  they  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  considerable 
amount  of  coin  and  valuable  jewelry,  among  which  was  a  valu- 
able gold  watch.  They  then  perpetrated  the  last  outrage  on 
the  poor  wife  of  the  Frenchman,  and  being  now  near  on  to 
daylight,  they  mounted  and  left  the  slumbering  city. 

The  audacity  of  this  exploit,  the  mysterious  coming  and  de- 
parture of  a  band  so  formidable,  and  handled  with  such  mili- 
tary discipline,  the  finesse  and  sang-froid  with  which  they 
robbed  the  gamblers,  who  greatly  magnified  their  number  and 
formidable  appearance,  whence  they  came  and  whither  they 
went,  the  dark  mystery  surrounding  the  adventure,  led  one  to 
inquire  of  another,  "  Well,  what  next  ?  "  Alarm  was  changed 
into  consternation,  and  general  gloom  and  terror  pervaded  the 
gringo  part  of  the  population,  especially  those  who  owned  stores 
.and  merchandise.  The  writer  uses  the-  convenient  phrase 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  161 

"gringo"  to  signify  the  whole  population  except  the  Spaniards. 
The  gringos  at  once  assumed  a  bellicose  attitude.  All  citizens 
were  under  arms.  The  Rangers  were  constantly  in  the  saddle, 
and  well  does  the  writer  remember  the  warlike  appearance  of 
Mayor  Nichols  and  Solomon  Lazard,  as  on  a  stormy  night  the 
two  heroes,  muffled  in  storm  and  rain-protecting  blankets, 
weighed  down  with  side-arms,  and  each  with  a  double-barreled 
shot-gun  carried  at  a  "  secure  arms  "  to  protect  them  from  the 
pelting  rain,  marching  to  their  respective  stations  on  the  hills 
west  of  the  city  to  do  picket  duty  ;  and  how  a  cordon  of  armed 
citizens  guarded  every  approach  to  the  angelic  stronghold  ;  how 
the  heroic  and  vigilant  Lazard  shot  a  brave  old  bull,  who  came 
lost  and  straggling  into  town  on  that  eventful  night ;  how  the 
Rangers,  in  detachments,  went  into  the  country  on  the  same 
rainy  night  ;  and  how,  to  the  utter  surprise  of  the  whole  city, 
especially  the  Spanish  part  of  the  population,  the  robbers  en- 
tered the  city,  raided  Sonora,  sacked  several  Spanish  houses, 
and  carried  oft'  forcibly  several  girls.  Whence  they  came  and 
whither  they  went  was  veiled  in  the  mists  of  mystery. 

When  Mayor  Nichols  was  on  his  picket  post  the  City 
Council  sent  the  Marshal  to  bring  him  to  the  council  rooms, 
where  they  were  discussing  measures  of  general  defense  and 
required  his  counsel  and  advice.  "I  will  send  them  a  mes- 
sage," said  the  Mayor,  "  and  will  send  it  verbally.  Tell  the 
honorables  that  the  most  proper  measures  for  the  defense  of 
this  city,  would  be  for  them  to  join  the  Rangers  as  volunteers 
or  shoulder  a  shotgun  and  close  the  municipal  shop  for  the 
present." 

This  raid  on  Sonora  occurred  about  a  week  after  the  foray 
made  on  the  gamblers  and  Frenchman.  The  angels  became 
nervous,  excited,  feverish  and  impatient ;  a  spirit  of  disap- 
pointment fell  upon  the  Ranger  company,  constantly  kept  going 
on  false  information,  always  to  be  disappointed.  They  would 

occasionally  jump  an  armed  horseman  who  was  so  wary  and 
11 


162  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER 

skillful  in  his  manoeuvers  that  not  a  single  capture  was  made. 
That  a  formidable  band  of  robbers  were  within  easy  striking 
distance  of  the  city  was  a  conceded  fact.  Where  they  were, 
none  could  tell.  Wild  and  magnified  rumors  and  reports 
of  murders  here,  robberies  and  outrages  there,  were  spread, 
with  still  wilder  rumors  of  a  Mexican  invasion  and  expulsion 
of  the  gringos,  all  of  which  time  the  bandits  were  encamped 
within  ten  miles  of  the  city. 

How  the  spirit  of  cupidity  gave  birth  to  dark  and  bloody 
treason,  and  how  the  leaders  of  the  robber  band  were  murdered 
in  cold  blood,  will  now  be  in  order. 

When  Senati  murdered  the  Marshal,  the  Sheriff  offered  a 
reward  of  $1,500  for  his  arrest  and  delivery,  dead  or  alive. 
Two  months  had  elapsed  and  no  account  of  the  fugitive 
assassin.  One  rainy  morning  in  December,  when  the  excite- 
ment raged  fearfully  and  anxiety  became  unbearable,  the  news 
spread  like  wildfire  that  the  jail  yard  was  full  of  dead  robbers, 
among  whom  was  Senati.  A  general  rush  was  made  for  the 
jail,  where  in  the  yard  in  front  of  the  jail  door  was  found  a 
Mexican  cart,  with  the  gory  corpses  of  five  bandits  lying  piled 
one  on  top  of  another,  stiff  and  stark,  exposed  to  the  driving 
rain  and  presenting  all  of  the  horrible  contortions  in  form  and 
feature  of  men  who  died  in  fear  and  agony.  An  Indian  boy 
drove  the  cart  to  town,  arriving  between  midnight  and  day- 
light. The  cart  was  guarded  and  escorted  by  a  solitary  horse- 
man, and  that  horseman  was  Atanacio  Moreno,  the  broken 
merchant ;  and  this  is  the  report  he  made  to  the  Sheriff.  He 
said  that  about  a  month  previous  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 
bandits,  who,  supposing  he  had  means,  demanded  a  ransom, 
kept  him  a  close  prisoner,  and  threatened  to  shoot  him  unless 
the  ransom  was  paid ;  that  he  watched  and  waited  for  an 
opportunity  to  escape ;  that  Luis  Vulvia,  who  had  been 
Joaquin's  Lieutenant,  was  Captain  of  the  band,  and  Senati 
was  Lieutenant.  Moreno  further  said  that  his  capture  was 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  163 

subsequent  to  Senati's  assassination  of  the  Marshal,  and  he 
knew  of  the  price  set  on  his  head  by  the  Sheriff,  and  in  sheer 
desperation  he  determined  not  only  to  escape,  but  to  carry 
Senati's  head  with  him  as  a  trophy.  With  this  determination 
he  watched  and  waited  for  a  favorable  opportunity,  which 
never  came.  Growing  impatient  and  still  more  desperate,  the 
band  having  gone  on  a  foray  and  he  being  left  alone  with 
Senati  and  two  guards,  by  stratagem  he  succeeded  in  obtaining 
possession  of  their  arms,  and  killed,  first  Senati,  then  the  two 
others.  That  the  Captain,  Vulvia,  at  this  critical  juncture 
unexpectedly  returned  to  camp,  and  by  a  stroke  of  good  man- 
agement was  also  slaughtered,  with  his  attendant,  by  the  brave 
Moreno.  This  all  occurred  in  one  of  the  caiions  in  the  rear  of 
the  Brea  Rancho,  and  after  his  brilliant  exploit  the  freed  and 
exultant  Moreno  accidentally  encountered  the  Indian  boy  with 
the  ox  cart,  pressed  him  into  service,  drove  to  the  robber  camp 
in  the  canon,  loaded  on  the  slaughtered  bandits,  drove  to  town 
as  above  stated,  and  now  demanded  the  $1,500  from  the 
Sheriff  in  conformity  with  his  offer.  Moreno  was  a  hero. 

In  less  than  two  hours  the  Sheriff  had  raised  the  money  and 
paid  it  over.  The  town  took  a  long  breath  of  relief.  The  great 
agony  was  over,  business  began  to  resume  its  sway,  and  the 
excitement  somewhat  abated.  About  a  week  or  two  thereafter, 
Charlie  Ducommun  came,  out  of  breath,  through  the  back  way 
into  the  drug  store,  at  the  corner  of  Commercial  and  Los  Ange- 
les streets,  where  he  found  Captain  Hope  and  two  Rangers. 
Hope  understood  that  some  one  was  robbing  Charlie's  crib,  and 
biding  him  return  quietly  by  the  way  he  came,  Hope,  with  his 
two  Rangers,  hastily  proceeded  up  Commercial  street.  A  horse 
was  seen  standing  in  front  of  Charlie's  shop  with  the  rope  lead- 
ing inside,  which  showed  that  a  man  was  inside  holding  the 
rope.  Arriving  at  the  door,  the  man  inside  went  for  his 
revolver,  but  before  he  could  draw  he  was  seized,  and  after  a 
desperate  resistance  was  overpowered,  and,  to  the  surprise 


164  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

of  all,  he  proved  to  be  the  hero  Moreno.  Then  Ducommon 
explained  that  the  prisoner  offered  to  pawn  the  valuable  gold 
watch  stolen  from  the  house  of  the  Frenchman  before  referred 
to;  that  he  at  once  recognized  the  watch,  and  pretending  to  go 
into  his  back  room  for  money,  had  ran  to  the  drug  store  and 
given  information.  Moreno  was  indicted,  tried,  convicted  and 
sentenced  to  fourteen  years  in  the  penitentiary  for  the  robbery 
of  the  Frenchman's  house,  lie  then  confessed  that  he  himself 
had  been  the  captain  of  the  robber  band,  and  that  Vulvia  and 
Senati  were  his  Lieutenants,  that  he  was  the  commander  of  the 
robbers  when  the*y  went  through  the  gamblers  and  frail  dames, 
and  at  the  outrage  at  the  Frenchman's ;  that,  tempted  by 
cupidity  he  had  slain  Senati,  to  effect  which  he  sent  the 
band  out  on  service,  retaining  Senati  in  camp  with  three  pickets 
posted  on  the  mountain  sides.  The  two  being  alone  he  killed 
Senati  with  a  rear  thrust  with  a  sabre,  and  to  his  surprise 
Vulvia  returned  to  camp  and  was  treacherously  shot  down  by 
his  captain.  The  three  pickets  hearing  the  shot  in  camp,  came 
in  and  were  treacherously  murdered  in  detail.  The  ox  cart 
was  procured  as  above  stated,  and  the  dead  robbers  brought  to 
town.  After  being  about  a  year  in  prison,  Moreno  and  the 
veteran  San  Francisco  forger,  old  Captain  Tuft,  attempted  to 
gf-t  up  an  insurrection,  disgracefully  failed,  and  were  severely 
punished.  He  was,  after  about  four  years'  service,  pardoned  by 
the  Governor,  and  was  taken  to  Sonora  by  his  friends  ;  returned 
again  to  Los  Angeles  ;  recommenced  his  old  tricks  and  was 
again  sent  up,  and  again  pardoned  in  1867,  which  is  the  last 
the  writer  knows  of  Moreno. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.     '  165 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Post  of  Jurupa — Captain  Lovell — Military  Discipline — A  Gay  and 
Festive  Quartermaster — Smith — Attempted  Robbery  of  Mrs.  Iverson's 
House  at  San  Gabriel — Robber  Camp  at  Ternescal—  The  Rangers, 
Regulars  and  Mormon  Contingent  Make  a  Night  March  on  Their 
Camp — Escape — On  to  San  Juan  Capistrano — Juan  Forster — Juan 
Avila  el  Rico. 

"  Time  at  last  sets  all  things  even," 

SERE  was  but  one  military  post  within  the  limits  of 
Los  Angeles  county  at  the  time  referred  to  in  the  pre- 
vious chapters,  and  the  domain  of  Los  Angeles  was 
then  very  great,  including  San  Bernardino  and  the  greater  part 
of  Kern  counties,  as  heretofore  stated.  The  post  of  Jurupa 
was  established,  I  believe,  in  1850,  and  was  continued  until 
1857.  Fort  Tejon  was  not  established  until  1854.  Jurupa, 
being  an  infantry  post,  could  lend  little  or  no  assistance  in 
breaking  up  the  robber  bands  that  so  occupied  the  Ranger 
company  and  kept  them  so  constantly  going.  Captain 
Lovell  commanded  at  Jurupa — a  sedate,  methodical,  sober 
kind  of  an  officer,  who  seemed  perfectly  content  to  sit  in 
his  elegant  quarters,  issue  orders  to  his  little  army  of  a  dozen 
or  so  of  well-fed,  clean-shaved,  white-cottou-gloved,  nicely- 
dressed,  lazy,  fat  fellows,  who  were  seemingly  happy  and  con- 
tent on  their  $8  per  month,  while  even  a  Digger  Indian  would 
naturally  expect  to  earn  even  more  than  that  sum  in  a  day  in 
the  mines.  They  all,  from  Captain  to  Corporal,  seemed  re- 
signed to  a  life  of  well-fed  indolence. 

Captain  Lovell  was  sedate  and  sober,  and  comported  him- 
self with   as  much  military  decorum  as    Though    on  duty   at 


166  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

the  War  Department,  and  under  the  immediate  eye  of  his 
illustrious  commander,  the  lordly  conqueror  of  the  mighty 
Aztec  capital.  Captain  Lovell  exacted  from  his  subalterns  the 
utmost  military  punctilio,  and  ruled  the  military  roost  at 
Jurupa  with  all  the  rigor  of  a  martinet.  Every  military  collar 
at  Jurupa  must  stand  with  the  most  mathematical  upright- 
ness ;  every  military  button,  every  military  brogan,  and  every 
military  tin  cup,  must  be  burnished  daily  in  such  brilliant 
style,  so  as  to  serve,  if  so  required,  as  a  mirror  or  shaving-glass. 
Quarters  were  daily  inspected,  and  the  whole  camp  subjected  to 
the  most  rigorous  military  police.  Kitchen,  mess  pans  and 
camp  kettles  would  receive  the  most  critical  attention  from  this 
model  commander,  whose  daily  custom  was  to  visit  the  military 
kitchen  and  rub  the  kettles,  plates  and  pans  with  his  immacu- 
late white  handkerchief,  and  woe  be  to  the  delinquent  cook  if 
the  perfumed  linen  should  be  soiled  or  smutted  by  its  contact 
with  his  kitchen  kit. 

Lovell  had  one  officer,  however,  whom  he  could  in  no  way 
manage.  Military  discipline  was  not  the  forte  of  this  officer, 
and  although  Lovell  tried  every  means  from  commands  to 
court-martials,  Smith  (such  was  the  Lieutenant's  name)  was 
utterly  incorrigible.  Smith  was  so  hard  a  nut  that  even 
Lovell  couldn't  crack  him.  Smith  would  consent  to  the 
wearing  of  a  military  jacket,  but  Mexican  calzoneros,  Mexican 
buckskin  leggings  of  the  most  approved  style  and  finish,  Mexi- 
can jingling  spurs  with  six-inch  rowels,  Mexican  sash,  Mexican 
hat,  Mexican  horse,  saddle  and  bridle,  and  a  brilliant  Mexican 
blanket,  a  navy  revolver  belted  to  his  side,  and  an  elegant 
bowie  neatly  sheathed  in  his  Mexican  bota,  went  to  make  up 
the  personal  trappings  of  the  gay,  festive  and  roystering  Quar- 
termaster of  Fort  Jurupa,  a  boon  companion  of  the  gifted 
Myron  Norton.  Smith,  with  all  his  fondness  for  gay  Mexican 
trappings,  was  also  inordinately  fond  of  Mexican  women. 
"  Wine  and  women  "  didn't  begin  to  express  the  festive  char- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  -167 

acter  of  this  gay  son  of  Mars,  who  would  start  from  Jurupa  at 
sunrise  and  ride  to  Los  Angeles,  fifty  miles,  for  breakfast,  and 
empty  two  military  canteens  of  double-proof  Mexican  aguar- 
diente on  the  way,  and  then  drink  two  bottles  of  first-class 
California  wine  at  the  breakfast  table,  which  he  was  wont  to 
designate  as  an  appetizer  to  prepare  him  for  drinking  with  his 
friends  until  dinner  time,  when  he  would  do  his  principal 
drinking.  Smith's  fondness  for  women  got  him  into  serious 
difficulty  with  Lovell  more  than  once,  and  one  time  in  particu- 
lar, he  was  restrained  of  his  liberty  and  ordered  to  remain 
within  the  limits  of  his  own  quarters.  A  court-martial  could 
not  be  convened  and  the  District  Commander,  John  B.  Magru- 
der,  was  appealed  to  by  Lovell.  The  Colonel  came  to  Jurupa 
and  made  himself  the  guest  of  the  bejugged  Quartermaster  for 
about  a  week,  during  which  time  Magruder  waived  rank  and 
he  and  Smith  made  night  melodious  with  their  roysterings. 
On  taking  his  departure  the  District  Commander  released  Smith 
from  durance,  which  was  the  last  time  Lovell  attempted  his 
reformation. 

Smith  was  very  fond  of  the  Rangers,  and  always,  when 
opportunity  offered,  would  accompany  them  on  their  expeditions. 
When  he  came  to  town  he  was  the  more  than  welcome  guest  of 
the  company,  who  would  lavish  all  their  generosity  on  both 
master  and  horse,  and  the  generosity  of  the  Jurupa  Quarter- 
master to  the  Eangers  was  without  limit.  If  there  were  any 
extra  rations,  extra  blankets,  or  other  kinds  of  military  stores 
at  the  post,  they  would  be  hoarded  with  miserly  care  for 
gratuitous  distribution  among  the  Rangers  when  opportunity 
offered.  Smith  was  the  prince  of  good  fellows  and  the  son  of  a 
Governor. 

Smith  entered  the  army  as  a  private  soldier  during  the  war 
with  Mexico,  and  for  personal  gallantry,  and  not  through 
political  influence,  at  the  end  of  the  war  was  promoted  to  a 


168  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Lieutenancy  in  the  2nd  Infantry.     His  father  was  Governor  of 
Virginia,  and  was  known  as  "Extra  Billy." 

During  the  hot  times  described  in  the  bloody  chapter,  thr 
robbers  made  a  raid  on  the  Mission  San  Gabriel,  and  among 
other  outrages  attempted  the  robbery  of  Mr.  Iverson's  house 
were  gallantly  repulsed  and  driven  away  by  Evert,  a  boy  of 
fourteen  years.  The  robbers  went  toward  the  upper  Santa  Ana. 
and  "  Don  Julian  del  Chino"  (Isaac  Williams)  sent  a  trust- 
worthy Indian  to  inform  Captain  Hope  that  a  large  force  were 
in  rendezvous  at  Temescal.  Hope  accordingly  made  his  dispo- 
sitions not  to  disperse,  but  to  bag  the  thieves  in  their  camp. 
An  express  was  accordingly  sent  to  J  urupa  asking  the  assistance 
and  co-operation  of  Captain  Lovell,  as  also  that  of  the  Mormon 
authorities  at  San  Bernardino,  who  were  requested  to  rendez- 
vous at  Jurupa  at  night,  with  such  auxilary  force  as  they  might 
be  able  to  furnish.  Fort  Jurupa  was  ten  miles  below  San 
Bernardino  on  the  Santa  Ana  river,  and  the  robbers,  camp  at 
Temescal  was  only  about  twelve  miles  from  Jurupa. 

The  Rangers  arrived  at  the  Fort  at  ten  o'clock  at  night, 
having  left  Los  Angeles  late  in  the  afternoon,  so  as  to  make  the 
latter  part  of  the  march  under  cover  of  darkness,  and  not  be 
seen  by  the  vigilant  bandits.  At  the  Fort  we  found  the  gallant 
Smith  in  all  his  glory,  with  half  the  garrison  mounted  on  wagon 
mules,  and  ready  to  move.  A.  half  hour  later,  Cliff,  the  Mor- 
mon Sheriff,  reported  with  a  splendid  company  of  mounted 
Mormons,  and  at  midnight,  under  the  guidance  of  the  Indians 
sent  by  Colonel  Williams,  of  Chino,  we  moved  rapidly  on  the 
robber  ci'.mp.  The  night  was  clear  and  calm,  the  moon  shone 
brightly,  and  the  burnished  muskets  of  the  soldiers,  flashed 
warning  signals  as  they  gleamed  and  glittored  in  the  moon- 
beams. The  road  was  hard  and  rocky,  the  sharp  clatter  of  our 
well  shod  mustangs,  and  the  heavy  tread  of  the  wagon  mules, 
assured  us  that  only  by  a  rapid  and  direct  movement  could  we 
expect  to  surprise  the  robbers. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A  'RANGER.  169 

The  camp  was  located  in  the  valley  just  above  the  Temescal 
hot  springs.  Entering  the  valley  we  went  on  a  full  charge  up 
the  road,  leaving  Smith's  mounted  infantry,  hut  not  Smith,  far 
in  the  rear,  and  turning  a  bend  in  the  road  just  below  the  hot 
springs,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  burning  camp  fires.  The 
game  had  escaped.  The  bandits  decamped,  and  when  quiet 
and  silence  had  been  restored,  we  could  hear  their  retreating 
clatter  as  they  went  up  Cold  water  canon.  Pursuit  was 
impossible  at  night,  owing  to  the  roughness  of  the  mountain 
and  mountain  gorge  in  which  the  robbers  had  taken  refuge. 
We  accordingly  made  our  camp,  fed  our  mustangs  from  the 
wallets  of  barley  furnished  by  the  provident  Smith,  arid  while 
some  boiled  coffee  in  their  tin-cups,  others,  fatigued  with  the 
more  than  sixty  miles  gallop,  were  soon  quietly  resting  in  the 
arms  of  Morpheus.  With  a  breakfast  of  coffee,  Mexican 
cheese  and  Jurupa  hard  tack,  at  daylight  we  took  the  trail  of 
the  retreating  bandits,  and  followed  it  up  Coldwater  canon, 
sometimes  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  sometimes  clambering 
along  the  brink  of  some  frightful  precipice.  In  a  little  while 
Smith  sent  his  infantry  back  to  the  fort,  they  being  unable  to 
follow  the  difficult  and  dangerous  trail.  After  an  infinite 
amount  of  scrambling,  danger,  and  hard  labor,  we  stood  on  the 
very  summit  of  the  Temescal  mountain,  now  by  some  called 
Santiago  mountain,  and  called  by  Captain  Bonneville,  nearly 
fifty  years  before,  San  Juan  mountain.  The  da>  was  clear  and 
beautiful,  and  we  were  repaid  for  our  difficult  ascent  by  the 
same  view  as  described  by  Bonneville,  the  original  American 
explorer,  who  said :  "  Standing  on  the  summit  of  the  San 
Juan  mountain,  with  my  face  towards  the  sea,  I  behold  the 
great  Pacific  ocean  with  its  numerous  islands  spread  out  before 
me,  while  to  my  left  are  the  limitless  plains  of  San  Luis  Key, 
and  to  my  right  the  great  volcano  and  lava  fields  of  San 
Gabriel,"  all  of  which  that  Ranger- Mormon  infantile  army 
beheld  with  pleasure  (a  sublime  view,  more  than  worth 


170  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  journey  and  ascent),  save  and  except  the  "volcano 
and  lava  fields"  described  by  the  adventurous  Captain 
Bonneville — because  there  were  none :  Bonneville  was  mis- 
taken. Besting  a  few  minutes,  we  followed  the  trail  along 
the  ridge,  bearing  to  the  east,  for  several  miles,  and  then 
descended  to  the  plains,  and  by  the  time  we  were  well  out  of 
the  caiions  and  foothills  the  sun  had  gently  gone  to  rest,  and 
another  beautiful  moonlight  night  set  in.  Our  poor  mus- 
tangs were  jaded,  still  we  pushed  on,  and  reached  San  Juan 
Capistrano  late  at  night,  and  aroused  Juan  Forster  ("  Bless  his 
old  soul ! "),  who  inhabited  the  only  inhabitable  part  of  the  old, 
dilapidated,  vermin-infested,  tumbling-down  Mission  buildings 
that  Truman,  in  his  "  Semi-Tropical  California,"  gets  so  enthu- 
siastic over.  When  speaking  of  the  Mission  and  Juan  Forster, 
he  says  "Bless  his  old  soul,"  meaning  Juan.  Juan  Forster 
was  not  blessed  by  that  Ranger-Mormon  expedition  on  that  oc- 
casion ;  neither  did  Smith  "  bless  his  old  soul,"  as  the  sequel 
will  show. 

We  roused  Don  Juan  up.  He  had  no  knowledge  or  infor- 
mation as  to  thieves.  He  guided  us  into  an  old  open  court- 
yard, with  old,  broken-down  corridors,  dusty,  dirty,  brick 
floors,  that  had  been  inhabited  by  hungry  hogs  and  mangy  curs 
since  Don  Pio  had  laid  his  despoiling  hand  on  the  doomed 
Mission.  We  were  worn  out,  hungry  and  sleepy ;  still,  having 
a  little  barley,  we  tied  and  fed  our  worn-out  mustangs,  spread 
our  blankets,  and  were  soon  sound  asleep,  regardless  of  the 
fleas,  tarantulas,  lizards,  or  any  other  kind  of  vermin. 

We  slept,  with  what  degree  of  comfort  I  will  not  pretend  to 
say  ;  nevertheless,  we  slept  until  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  when  it  commenced  a  cold,  deluging,  driving  Novem- 
ber rain,  and  in  a  lit^e  while  we  were  all  on  our  feet,  shivering 
with  cold  and  drenched  with  water.  What  with  our  fatigue  and 
want  of  sleep,  we  had  lain  under  our  blankets  until  half 
drowned  and  frozen,  and  when  daylight  came  we  presented  a 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  171 

pitiable  spectacle — our  poor  mustangs,  drawn  up,  hungry  and 
half-frozen,  our  blankets  soaked  and  muddy,  and  the  rickety 
old  roof  above  us  pouring  down  deluges  of  water.  Our  Captain 
said  :  "  Don  Juan  will  be  out  presently,  and  will  furnish  us 
with  better  quarters,  and  whatever  there  may  be  of  good  cheer 
in  the  Mission,  Don  Juan  will  supply."  (Bless  his  old  soul !) 
Capt.  Hope  didn't  say  that,  but  doubtless,  at  the  time,  he 
meant  it. 

Time  wore  apace,  but  Don  Juan  failed  to  put  in  an  appear- 
ance. We  were  hungry,  we  were  wet,  cold  and  chill.  We 
tried  to  saddle  our  horses,  but  our  fingers  were  so  benumbed 
that  we  could  scarcely  use  them.  The  poor  horses  refused  to 
move,  but  would  herd  and  huddle  under  the  lee  side  of  the  wall 
for  protection  against  the  driving  blast.  Finally,  our  Captain' 
lost  faith  even  in  the  proverbial  hospitality  of  an  old  English 
salt,  and  detailed  a  foraging  party  which,  in  the  course  of  an- 
hour,  reported  back  with  a  sack  of  barley,  an  armful  of  jerked 
beef,  and  some  dry  willow  poles  ruthlessly  torn  from  one  of  Don 
Juan's  corrals,  ("bless  his  soul.")  We  still  had  some  coffee- 
and  we  had  our  tin  cups,  and  after  many  failures  we  succeeded 
in  starting  a  fire,  and  having  an  abundant  supply  of  water,  we- 
went  to  boiling  coffee,  fed  our  horses  on  barley,  masticated 
jerked  beef,  and  anathematized  the  soul  of  Juan  Forster,  who- 
was  still  hibernating  in  his  own  hole.  Hot  coffee  is  a  great 
restorer  of  circulation,  and  in  a  little  while  Smith  and  Cliff  and 
one  or  two  Rangers  sallied  forth  in  search  of  adventure,  while 
the  others  continued  to  brew  and  drink  coffee.  The  day  wore 
on,  mid-day  passed,  the  storm  increased  in  violence  and  Don 
Juan  Forster  hybernated,  the  Smith-Cliff  party  returned  with  a 
goodly  supply  of  aguardiente  in  canteens.  We  held  a  council 
of  war,  some  suggested  calling  Juan  Forster  out  and  demand- 
ing shelter,  which  he  could  have  afforded,  others  that  we  saddle 
up  and  leave  ;  but  where  were  we  to  go  to,  even  if  our  horses 
cou'd  travel?  Finally  our  -Captain  said  that  he  would  not 


172  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

force  the  hospitality  of  any  one  who  by  all  moral  obligation 
should  be  more  than  willing  to  accord  That  Don  Juan 
Avila  el  Hico,  who  dwelt  at  the  Aliso  Rancho,  only  eight  miles 
on  the  Los  Angeles  road,  had  a  large  house  and  always  kept  an 
abundant  supply  of  forage  and  provender,  and  that  we  would 
feed  our  mustangs  on  what  was  left  of  our  barley,  fortify  our- 
selves with  what  was  left  of  our  coffee,  and  light  out,  trusting 
to  a  kind  Providence  and  the  hospitality  of  Juan  Avila  el  Rico. 
The  rain  still  poured  down  in  torrents,  we  kept  the  fire  burning 
in  a  kind  of  a  sheltered  corner.  Smith  was  the  first  to  saddle. 
His  horse,  whom  he  called  Vallo,  was  a  noble  animal,  and 
Smith  was  as  devoted  to  him  as  was  ever  a  Bedquin  Arab  to 
his  courser.  Juan  Forster's  principal  room  fronted  on  the 
Mission  square,  and  had  a  large,  unglazed,  open,  iron-barred 
window,  and  Juan  Forster  had  been  seen  sitting  at  that 
window  during  the  day.  Smith  had  imbibed  freely  from  his 
canteen,  and  while  we  were  still  brewing  coffee  and  getting 
ready,  Smith  went  out  and  took  position  in  front  of  the  large, 
open  window  and  bawled  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice:  "D — n 
Juan  Forster  !  —  d — n  Juan  Forster  !"  which  he  continued  for 
a  full  hour,  vociferously  roaring,  "D — n  Juan  Forster," — and  a 
general  d — in — g,  by  which  time  we  emerged  from  the  miserable 
old  corral,  in  the  most  dilapidated  and  wretched  plight  that  it 
is  possible,  to  imagine,  and  in  doleful  procession  filed  out  of 
the  Mission  square,  passing  Juan's  open  window,  and  joining 

in  chorus  with  Smith's  doleful  refrain,  "D n  Juan 

Forster." 

As  night  set  in  we  reached  a  haven  of.  rest,  a  place  of  full- 
handed  'hospitality,  where  we  were  received  with  hearty, 
Christian  welcome,  and  although  our  party  was  large  the 
generosity  of  our  noble  host  was  yet  larger,  and  the  household 
and  Don  Juan  Avila,  "bless  his  soul,"  went  to  work  in  good 
earnest  to  ameliorate  our  wretched  condition,  and  when  the  sun 
burst  forth  in  all  its  glory  on  the  following  morning,  with  well- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  173 

fed  mustangs,  dry  clothes  and  full  stomachs,  we  saddled 
and  took  up  our  line  of  march,  the  Mormons  to  San  Bernar- 
dino and  the  Rangers,  accompanied  by  Smith,  to  Los  Angeles. 
The  most  of  that  Ranger-Mormon  party  have  crossed  over 
the  river.  Juan  Forster  owns  a  princely  estate — fifty  miles  of 
the  Pacific  Coast.  The  generous  Don  Juan  Avila  stands  in 
the  presence  of  Him  who  rewards  all  acts  of  generosity.  The 
gallant  Smith  left  the  army  and  joined  the  legions  of  the  Lost 
Cause,  and  I  believe  is  yet  living.  He  was  brave,  and  more 
than  generous,  and  during  the  bloody  days  of  fraternal  strife  I 
could  imagine  seeing  him  leading  where  only  the  brave  dare 

follow,  with  his  terrific  battle-cry  of  "d n  Juan 

Forster." 

"Time  at  last  sets  all  things  even."  • 

— Mazeppa. 


J74  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

)E1  Vijco  Lugo — His  Vast  Wealth  and  Great  Generosity — His  Death — 
Bill,  the  Most  Remarkable — Oinar  Pacha — Louis  Napoleon — U.  S. 
Grant — Knights  Ferry— King  Gumbo  Jumbo  and  Kahmchamehu — A 
Wonderful  Saint — Chebang— Boom — My  Compadre — Another  Pacha 
who  Decimates  a  Turkish  Regiment. 


after  my  arrival  at  the  Angels  it  was  my  good 
fortune  to  visit  the  home  ranch  of  possibly  the  most 
,   eminent  Spaniard  in  California,  Don  Antonio  Maria 

IT  7 

Lugo,  by  the  Spaniards  designated  as  "El  viejo  Lugo,"  by  the 
Americans  as  "  Old  man  Lugo,"  the  patriarch  of  the  numer- 
ous Lugo  family,  once  so  rich,  powerful  and  influential.  Don 
Antonio  Maria  Lugo  was  eminent,  not  as  a  politician  or  as  a 
man  of  learning,  but  as  a  man  of  princely  possessions,  of 
.great  generosity  and  unblemished  honor.  To  be  a  kinsman  of 
old  man  Lugo,  in  the  remotest  degree,  was  an  assurance  of  an 
ample  start  in  lands  and  cattle  with  which  to  commence  the 
battle  of  life.  To  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  his  great  import- 
ance, it  was  always  said,  and  1  believe  truthfully,  that  old  man 
Lugo  could  ride  from  San  Diego  to  Sonoma,  a  distance  of  seven 
hundred  miles,  sleep  every  night  on  his  own  land,  change 
horses  every  day  from  his  own  herds,  and  eat  beef  slaughtered 
from  his  own  cattle  on  the  entire  journey.  As  a  man  of  vast 
possessions,  of  unbounded  generosity  and  strict  integrity,  old 
man  Lugo  was  without  a  peer  on  the  whole  California  coast. 
•Originally  a  Spanish  soldier,  he  obtained  his  discharge,  settled 
in  this  country,  commenced  the  business  of  stock-raising,  was 
.-sober,  industrious,  managed  his  nerds  successfully,  extended  his 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  175 

landed  interests,  and  founded  a  family  whose  present  numbers 
and  various  ramifications  exceed  any  other  family  in  the  State. 
"Los  Cuerbos,"  where  Compton  is  now  situated,  was  the  home 
rancho  of  old  man  Lugo. 

The  old  Pon,  then  ninety  years  old,  was  tall,  straight  and 
supple,  with  a  splendid  military  carriage,  elastic  step  and 
measured  tread,  which  gave  evident  proof  that  the  training  re- 
ceived in  the  King's  army  had  made  such  lasting  impression  as 
would  endure  to  the  end  of  his  life.  When  mounted,  the  old 
man  was  the  beau-ideal  of  a  horseman,  and  was  the  envy  of  all 
the  young  Dons,  who  were  emulous  of  acquiring  the  style  and 
carriage  known  and  designated  as  "el  cuerpo  de  Lugo" — the 
carriage  of  the  Lugo. 

The  old  hero  died,  I  believe,  about  1860,  at  the  age  of  98 
years,  maintaining  up  to  within  a  short  time  of  his  death  all 
of  his  physical  vigor,  and  could  ride  on  horseback,  and,  if 
necessity  required,  could  swing  and  throw  the  lasso  with  as 
much  vim  and  precision  as  the  most  expert  youngster.  His 
mental  faculties,  of  the  highest  order,  were  perfect  and  unim- 
paired until  the  last  minute.  Old  man  Lugo  died  compara- 
tively poor;  but  he  left  a  heritage  to  his  legion  of  descendants, 
if  .only  understood  and  appreciated  by  them,  worth  more  than 
leagues  of  land  or  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills.  He  left  a  name 
that  stands  honored,  unsullied,  and  a  bright  example  to  be 
imitated  by  generations  to  come,  and  any  man  or  woman,  high 
or  low,  rich  or  poor,  should  feel  proud  to  say,  "I  descended 
from  Don  Antonio  Maria  Lugo,  who  lived  a  century — a  long 
life  of  usefulness — and  died  honored  and  wept  by  all,  the 
friend  of  mankind,  and  without  an  enemy." 

Having  disposed  of  old  man  Lugo,  this  timid  historian 
approaches  the  difficult  task  of  trying  to  do  justice  to  the  most 
remarkable  character  that  he  has  ever  known,  and  he  believes 
he  has  met  and  known  in  his  thirty  years  of  adventure  many 
curious  and  strange  characters.  Several  times  has  this  truth- 


176  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

fill  historian  essayed  this  difficult  and  trying  subject,  and  at 
each  time  his  pen  refused  its  office  and  flanked  off  on  some 
lighter  and  easier  task.  Had  Byron  lived  and  known  "Bill," 
he  might  have  done  justice  to  his  many  virtues;  his  thousand 
peculiarities ;  his  eminent  learning  and  great  scientific  attain- 
ments ;  his  curious  history,  wonderful  adventures,  great  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  and  mankind  ;  his  extensive  travel ;  his 
great  familiarity  and  personal  acquaintance  with  noted  persons, 
including  Louis  Napoleon  and  Don  Carlos,  the  Spanish  pre- 
tender ;  the  Royal  Isabella  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington ;  King 
Gumbo  Jumbo,  of  Timbuctoo,  and  Kamehameha,  King  of  the 
Cannibal  Islands.  Lopez,  the  Cuban  patriot  and  martyr,  and 
Omar  Pacha,  had  been  his  school  fellows.  He  was  a  partner 
of  Gen.  Grant  in  Knight's  Ferry,  and  mined  with  Jim  Savage 
on  the  Tuolumne  ;  was  sailing  master  on  the  ship  of  the  desert 
on  her  last  voyage  of  discovery  on  the  mythical  Widney  sea, 
and  was  chief  architect  of  the  construction  of  the  Casa  Grande 
on  the  Gila;  and  in  a  private  letter  had  told  Raglan  how  to 
capture  the  Malakoif,  he  having  examined  it  professionally  for 
the  Czar,  with  a  view  to  strengthening  its  immense  defences. 
Having  been  a  friend  and  partner  of  Grant  when  the  now 
great  man  enacted  the  role  of  Charon  for  the  wandering  Argo- 
nauts, he  became  the  confidential  agent  and  correspondent  of 
the  Government  at  Washington  in  the  dark  days  of  the  rebel- 
lion, and  stood  guard  over  the  interests  of  the  Union  on  the 
Pacific  Coast,  and  kept  a  weather  eye  on  a  Governor  suspected 
of  disloyalty,  and  contributed  greatly  in  preserving  the  integ- 
rity of  the  Union  and  holding  the  City  of  the  Angels  to  a 
proper  appreciation  of  the  "  best  government,"  and  preventing 
the  actual  secession  of  California.  There  is  no  question  that 
Bill  ran  this  angelic  stronghold  in  the  interests  of  the  Union 
during  the  dark  days,  and  but  for  him  the  angels  would  have 
gone  in  the  interest  of  the  Jeff.  Davis  Government ;  and 
during  the  four  years  of  strife  and  turmoil,  the  four  years  that 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  177 

tried  men's  souls,  and  filled  the  pockets  of  many,  Bill  was  the 
big  dog  of  this  boneyard.  He  was  the  boss  of  this  burg  ;  he 
ruled  this  angelic  roost,  and  although  he  frequently  begged  the 
Government  for  leave  to  go  to  the  battle's  front,  he  was  found 
to  be  the  right  man  in  the  right  place,  and  Grant  and  Lincoln 
implored  him  to  stay  here  and  fight  it  out  if  it  took  forty 
summers  ;  and  stay  here  Bill  did,  and  here  he  fought  the  great 
battle  for  the  Union  ;  and  though  the  odds  were  ten  to  one 
against  him,  still  he  won  the  great  battle,  and  I  hope  his 
friends  and  all  who  know  him  will  accord  him'  the  distinction, 
as  does  the  historian,  of  being  the  Boss  Angel,  or  Sill  the  most 
remarkable.  Henceforth,  however,  the  "chronicler  will  presume 
on  his  more  than  quarter  of  a  century  of  unbroken,  uninterrupted 
friendship  and  close  intimacy,  and  designate  this  grand  historical 
character  with  the  familiar  cognomen  of  Bill. 

This  careful  chronicler  first  met  and  made  Bill's  acquaint- 
ance on  his  first  visit  to  old  man  Lugo's.  I  was  somewhat 
impressed  with  his  personal  appearance  on  first  sight.  He  was 
of  medium  hight,  of  muscular  but  graceful  figure,  with  a 
complexion  dark  as  a  Spaniard,  a  head  that  in  intellectual 
balance  and  massiveness  would  have  equaled  that  of  the 
immortal  Webster,  and  would  have  made  a  perfect  model  for  a 
sculptor  in  giving  cast  to  the  head  of  a  Roman  Senator,  a 
countenance  as  soft  and  sweet  as  the  most  gentle  woman,  with 
the  most  peculiar  eye  I  ever  beheld  in  mortal  man,  a  sort  of 
philosophic,  poetic,  sleepy  eye,  that  seemed  so  soft,  quiet,  kind, 
benevolent  and  dreamy,  but  still  so  changeable.  At  the  slight- 
est insult  or  offence  those  poetic,  dreamy  eyes  would  change 
and  flash  like  the  lighting  of  a  match  or  the  flashing  of  gun- 
powder. His  mouth  was  expressive  of  great  firmness,  with  a 
peculiar  smile,  so  pleasing  yet  so  dangerous  to  a  thoughtless 
woman.  Bill,  however,  had  a  chivalrous  feeling,  amounting  to 
a  kind  of  homage,  an  excessive  gallantry,  toward  the  fair  sex, 

otherwise  he  would  have  been  a  rake.     That  mouth  of  his  was 
12 


178  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  kind  of  a  mouth  that  always  leads  a  weak  woman  to  her 
ruin.  There  was  this  much  animal  in  Bill,  and  with  the  single 
exception,  and  that  flashing  of  the  eye  that  indicated  kinship 
to  the  Bengal  tiger,  he  was  all  intellectual.  He  was  a  scientist 
and  a  philosopher  of  the  true  school  of  philosophy. 

As  said  before,  I  was  somewhat  astonished  at  Bill's  peculiar 
physical  and  intellectual  appearance,  supposing  him  to  be  a 
Spaniard,  but  when  he  spoke  in  the  most  elegant  and  gram- 
matical English,  and  in  a  manner  and  tone  of  voice  that  would 
have  been  the  envy  of  the  most  cultivated  courtier,  or  diplomat, 
my  surprise  bordered  on  curiosity,  and  immediately  on  taking 
our  departure  I  inquired  of  my  companion  about  him  and  who 
he  was.  The  only  information  he  could  afford  me  was  that  he 
was  "  old  man  Lugo's  friend,  general  manager,  interpreter  and 
confidential  adviser  ;  that  there  was  an  air  of  mystery  sur- 
rounding the  gentleman,  that  he  was  polite,  amiable  and  genial, 
but  whence  he  came,  who  he  was,  his  nationality,  antecedents, 
former  history,  et  cetera,  he  kept  to  himself."  His  name  was 
English,  though  surely  he  was  not  an  Englishman,  neither  did 
he  resemble  an  American.  He  spoke  the  Spanish  language  as 
spoken  in  Madrid,  as  also  the  French,  with  fluency  and  pure 
Parisian  accent ;  still  he  was  evidently  neither  English,  Ameri- 
can, Spanish  or  French,  so  the  question  presented  itself  to  my 
mind,  who  and  what  is  he  ?  Broach  any  scientific  subject,  and 
he  would  show  himself  to  be  master  of  it ;  any  matter  of  his- 
tory was  as  much  at  his  fingers'  end  as  though  he  himself  had 
made  it  to  order ;  chemistry  seemed  to  be  Bill's  favorite 
science,  and  he  applied  it  to  everything,  from  making  tortillas, 
cooking  beans  and  making  coffee,  to  the  making  of  first-class 
cognac  brandy  out  of  the  most  villainous  Mexican  aguardiente, 
and  by  the  most  simple  process  of  distillation  he  would  convert 
the  crude  asphaltum,  with  which  our  streets  are  paved,  into 
pure  and  refined  camphene  ;  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 

It  is  known  that  asphaltum  exists  in  inexhaustible  quan- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  179 

titles  in  Los  Angeles  County,  and  was  always  extensively  used 
in  roofing  houses  and  paving  streets.  Now  Bill's  scientific 
knowledge  pointed  the  way  to  boundless  wealth  to  himself 
and  to  Los  Angeles  County  in  converting  the  unlimited  supply 
into  pure  camphene ;  and  he  would  revolutionize  the  camphene 
trade,  then  so  great.  So  he  fitted  up  a  laboratory  in  the  old 
building  that  has  since  been  so  altered  and  improved  upon, 
and  is  now  known  as  the  "Signoret  Building."  The  main 
floor  of  the  two-story  frame  was  occupied  as  a  drug  store, 
while  the  upper  story  was  used  by  an  old  gentleman  mentioned 
by  our  deceased  centennial  historian  as  having  been  a  most 
wonderful  compadre,  and  of  having  been  the  padrino  of  more 
children  than  any  other  man  in  California,  if  the  reader  knows 
what  that  means,  and  his  very  pious  and  Christian  old  wife — 
the  couple  being  childless — as  being  a  very  eminent  comadre. 
Now,  if  the  reader  labors  under  the  misfortune  of  being  a 
"gringo,"  and  don't  know  the  mearning  of  "cornpadre"  and 
"  comadre,"  then  it  is  the  reader's  misfortune  and  not  his 
fault,  and  the  author  will  endeavor  to  throw  some  light  on  that 
matter. 

The  old  gentleman  referred  to  as  having  been  so  eminent  as 
a  compadre,  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age  and  went  to  his  grave  full  of 
honors  and  was  generally  lamented.  I  could  never  understand 
how  he  bore  up  under  the  infliction  of  so  many  compadres. 
This  to  the  author  has  been  a  long  prevailing  mystery.  I  once 
had  a  compadre  who  came  near  being  my  financial  ruin.  The 
author  became  a  compadre  in  San  Francisco  in  early  times. 
To  be  a  compadre  is  to  stand  as  god-father  for  some  one's  child 
at  baptism,  then  you  become  compadre  to  both  parents  and 
the  father  becomes  your  compadre  and  the  mother  becomes 
your  comadre.  Now  it  came  to  pass  that  I  was  in  a  solid 
financial  situation  at  San  Francisco,  as  aforesaid,  and  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a  most  elegant  Peruvian  Don,  a  near  kins- 
man and  partisan  of  the  great  hero  of  Inca-land,  the  renowned 


180  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Echinique.  I  was  very  proud  of  my  aristocratic  friend,  and  felt 
a  great  elevation  of  dignity  when  promenading  Montgomery 
street  with  this,  the  only  man  I  ever  saw  who  knew  how  to  wear 
a  Spanish  cloak,  and  how  to  carry  a  cane,  and  who  knew  how 
to  gracefully  give  his  cigar  to  a  person  to  obtain  a  neighborly 
light  from,  and  when  we,  arm  in  arm,  entered  the  parquette  of 
a  theatre  the  eyes  of  the  audience  would  be  diverted  from  the 
stage  to  gaze  upon  his  magnificence,  so  thought  I  in  my 
youthful  pride.  It  so  happened  that  my  friend  was  a  married 
man,  and  had  a  most  interestingly  languid,  lisping,  tiopical 
beauty  for  a  wife,  and  the  high-born  pair  had  a  baby.  One 
day  my  friend  informed  me  that  their  nina  was  to  be  baptized 
and  that  I  must  stand  as  padrino  to  the  child,  and  thereby 
the  friendship  between  us  would  be  cemented — we  would  be 
compadres.  I  at  first  demurred  to  the  proposition,  but  the 
honor  was  so  great  that  I  surrendered  at .  discretion  and  won 
the  distinction  of  being  and  having  a  compadre,  as  also  a 
comadre. 

My  compadre  was  a  millionaire  in  his  own  country,  but  on 
account  of  the  great  Echinique  being  temporarily  under  a 
cloud,  was  an  exile,  and  was  living  in  a  very  modest  way  in  San 
Francisco.  But  he  received  a  letter  from  Lima  by  the  last 
steamer,  informing  him  that  on  the  next  departure  of  the  Royal 
Mail  Steamship  a  thousand  doubloons  would  be  sent  to  his 
private  account,  and  ten  thousand  with  which  to  proceed  to 
New  York  and  purchase  arms  for  his  great  kinsman  in  case 
they  could  not  be  procured  in  San  Francisco.  All  of  this  I 
learned  at  the  time  he  requested  me  to  stand  for  the  nina.  The 
time  arrived  and  I  was  all  excitement;  I  was  about  to  Have  for 
a  compadre  a  nephew  of  the  great  man  at  whose  frown  all  Peru 
trembled. 

On  the  morning  of  the  important  day  my  friend  delicately 
hinted  that  a  few  presents  to  his  wife,  my  soon  to  be  comadre, 
was  expected  on  this  occasion  ;  also  some  toys,  a  little  silver 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  181 

plate,  or  some  trifles  for  the  nifia.  To  save  me  the  trouble  he 
would  buy  them,  but  of  course  I  would  have  to  pay  for  them. 
I  didn't  wish  to  s?em  mean,  so  I  inquired  about  how  much 
coin  would  be  necessary  for  the  trifles,  and  he  mentioned  a  sum 
that  seemed  to  me  to  be  very  large,  .but,  said  he  with  a 
Spanish  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "quo  vale  este,"  (a  mere  trifle). 
Well,  thought  I,  such  honors  don't  fall  to  the  lot  of  ordinary 
gringos,  and  I  handed  over  the  cash.  I  next  learned  from  my 
soon  to  be  comadre  that  I  was  expected  to  make  a  small 
present  to  the  priest,  a  silver  service  of  some  kind,  and  so  grand 
did  I  feel  by  this  time  that  I  would  have  bartered  away  my 
birthright  rather  than  to  seem  penurious  in  the  eyes  of  such 
•  people,  so  away  went  another  investment.  At  the  hour  set 
the  company  met  at  my  friend's  residence  on  Telegraph  Hill, 
Lombard  street.  A  grand  dinner  and  confection  was  being 
served.  Costly  wines  in  .large  quantities  were  being  brought 
in,  and  I  was  duly  informed  that  as  a  matter  of  honor  the 
padrino  was  obliged  to  foot  the  bill.  By  this  time,  however, 
under  the  inspiration  of  wine  I  felt  grander  than  any  Spanish 
or  Peruvian  grandee  that  ever  spent  his  million  a  year,  and  a 
hundred  dollars  seemed  to  me  as  small  change,  and  away  went 
my  capital. 

The  niiia  was  duly  baptized,  and  I  became  a  compadre;  went 
to  my  room  about  daylight,  fell  into  a  kind  of  a  slumber  and 
dreamed  that  my  grand  Peruvian  compadre  had  made  me  the 
present  of  a  fee-simple  title  to  a  great  sugar  plantation  in  Peru. 
It  was  near  noon  when  I  awoke,  and  my  aristocratic  compadre 
was  at  the  door.  Some  little  bill  remained  unpaid  and  I  was 
the  only  one  who  had  the  right  to  pay  on  such  occasion — $40 
would  square  the  thing  up.  I  soaked  my  head  in  a  basin  of 
cold  water,  went  down  town  with  my  compadre,  handed  over 
the  coin,  felt  so  bad  that  I  returned  to  my  room  and  to  bed. 
Never  more  did  I  behold  my  only  compadre.  My  comadre 
ever  after  to  me  was  a  vision  of  the  past;  and  the  nifia,  God 


.182  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

only  knows.  A  few  days  after  ray  accession  to  the  honor  of 
being  a  compadre,  I  learned  that  the  kinsman  of  the  great 
Echinique  had  gone  to  Stockton  and  opened  a  monte  bank. 

Bill's  laboratory  was  in  the  back  room  of  the  drug  store,  and 
most  fortunately  the  room  immediately  over  it  was  the  old 
lady's  oratory  (the  comadre's),  and  was  inhabited  by  San 
Francisco,  the  greatest  and  most  wonderful  saint,  possibly,  that 
ever  took  up  his  earthly  residence  in  this  City  of  Angels.  This 
eminent  saint  has  performed,  and  still  continues  to  perform, 
many  and  wondrous  miracles.  San  Francisco  is  to-day,  at  the 
very  time  the  author  is  reverently  engaged  in  writing  his  praise, 
performing  miracles,  occupies  elegant  quarters,  and  is  minis- 
tered to  daily  by  the  kind  old  widow  of  the .  old  departed  com- 
padre. The  writer  avers,  asseverates  and  declares  the  truth  to 
be  that  San  Francisco  has  performed,  and  still  continues  to 
perform,  miraculous  cures,  and  is  decorated  from  the  top  of  his 
saintly  head  to  the  tip  end  of  his  saintly  big  toe  with  testimo- 
nials of  his  many  and  miraculous  cures  ;  and  if  the  reader 
refuses  to  believe  this  most  truthful  writer,  then  let  him  verify 
the  truth  of  history,  and  pay  a  visit  to  this  remarkable  saint, 
who  is  so  famous  in  the  City  of  Angels  that  he  is  as  easy  to 
find  as  the  Round  House,  or  the  famous  Round  House  George. 

If  the  reader  should  visit  this  renowned  saint,  possibly  the 
first  thing  that  will  attract  his  attention  will  be  a  beautiful 
golden  ornament,  representing  a  woman's  breast.  Now,  the 
significance  of  that  golden  ornament  is  this  :  An  Angelic  lady 
had  a  badly  diseased  breast,  which  medical  science  failed  to 
cure ;  so  the  poor  woman  was  recommended  to  try  San  Fran- 
cisco. She  accordingly  went  to  a  jeweler  and  had  a  golden 
duplicate  made  of  her  well  breast,  and  hung  it  up  in  the  oratory 
as  an  offering  to  San  Francisco.  The  result  was  that  almost 
immediately  her  diseased  breast  resumed  its  former  beauty,  and 
was  perfectly  healed.  A  Christian  gentleman  had  a  lung  dis- 
ease that  was  hurrying  him  to  the  grave.  His  physicians 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  183 

informed  him  that  their  efforts  in  his  behalf  would  be  unavail- 
ing— that  he  must  die.  He  was  recommended  to  try  San 
Francisco,  so  he  had  some  expensive  ornaments  made,  repre- 
senting a  pair  of  healthy  lungs,  hung  them  up  as  an  offering  to 
that  saintly  practitioner,  and  in  a  twinkling  his  lungs  were 
healed.  On  two  occasions  the  house  in  which  old  San  Fran- 
cisco hung  up  was  nearly  consumed  by  fire.  Both  times  the 
fire  raged  fearfully  until  it  reached  the  part  of  the  house  occu- 
pied'by  the  most  potent  saint,  when  it  mysteriously  smouldered 
and  went  out.  Notwithstanding  Bill  was  personally  present 
and  directed  a  host  of  fire  fiends  against  the  consuming  ele- 
ment, the  fire,  as  before  stated,  continued  on  its  devouring 
course  until  it  came  near  San  Francisco's  elegant  quarters, 
where  the  good  old  lady  was  engaged  in  supplicating  his  inter- 
cession, and  right  there  it  stopped. 

These  are  only  instances  of  thousands  of  most  wonderful 
cures  effected  by  this  most  wonderful  saint,  and  the  subduing 
of  the  raging  conflagration  on  the  two  occasions  referred  to. 
are  only  instances  likewise  of  the  potency  for  good  of  the 
ancient  Francisco. 

The  reader  will  soon  be  brought  to  understand  why  it  was 
fortunate  that  San  Francisco  was  quartered  in  the  room 
directly  over  Bill's  asphaltum  camphene  laboratory.  It  was  a 
hot  day  in  September,  1854,  that  all  the  elegant  angels  of 
leisure  were  kicking  their  heels  in  the  cool  piazza  of  the  old 
Montgomery,  which  was  immediately  in  front  of  the  house 
wherein  Bill  was  industriously  engaged. in  his  laudable  design 
of  benefitting  mankind  in  general,  and  himself  and  his  adopted 
city  in  particular,  when  all  at  once  chebang  !  boom  !  fire,  flame, 
window-glass,  a  shivered  door,  and  a  general  bust  up  in  Bill's 
laboratory.  It  seemed  as  though  the  old  frame  house  was 
lifted  two  feet  bodily  off  the  ground,  and  came  down  with  a 
seeming  great  crash.  The  elegant  angels  kicking  their  heels, 
as  aforesaid,  ran  to  the  rescue,  and,  in  a  short  time,  under  the 


184  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

cool  direction  of  Bill,  who  had  stepped  into  the  drug  store 
to  divert  his  mind  in  the  chemical  concoction  of  a  "  Welling- 
tonian  cocktail,"  and  was  fortunately  absent  when  the  explosion 
took  place,  the  fire  was  subdued  and  the  question  of  damage 
was  gone  into  generally,  which  proved  to  be  quite  heavy ;  and 
right  here  the  point  comes  in.  If  Bill's  works  had  not  been 
directly  under  San  Francisco,  that  frail  old  house,  then  new, 
would  have  been  blown  sky  high.  You  know  it  would  have 
been  entirely  out  of  the  order  of  things  to  have  blown  up  a 
saint  of  such  great  merit  as  San  Francisco. 

Bill  was  one  of  the  coolest,  yet  one  of  the  most  determined  of 
all  the  desperadoes  of  the  southern  counties.  It  is  to  be  under- 
stood that  Bill  was  not  in  any  manner  of  speech  a  desperado, 
though  in  all  truth  he  always  got  away  with  the  desperado  by 
whomever  tackled.  1  will  now  proceed  to  relate  a  few  indivi- 
dual instances  of  Bill's  successful  encounters  with  the  knights 
of  the  trigger  and  blade.  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  an 
attempt  to  assassinate  Judge  Benjamin  Hayes,  now  deceased, 
one  of  our  most  eminent  pioneer  lawyers,  which  created  quite 
an  excitement.  Parties  of  gringos  went  out  in  all  directions 
(this  was  in  1851)  to  try  to  get  a  clue  to  the  perpetrators  of 
the  dastardly  attempt,  one  party  under  the  "  most  useful  man," 
accompanied  by  one  Pete  Monroe,  a  discharged  dragoon  and 
first-class  desperado.  The  party  brought  up  at  old  man  Lugo's 
and  interviewed  Bill,  who  was  deemed  to  be  insolent  in  his 
demeanor  to  the  inquisitive  gringos,  and  was  informed  by  Pete 
that  if  not  more  respectful  he  (Pete)  would  dismount  and  slice 
him  with  his  sabre,  which  he  carried  at  his  side.  Bill  responded 
by  stepping  inside  and  returning  with  old  man  Lugo's  long, 
straight  Toledo  blade,  naked  and  in  hand,  and  with  one  of  his 
sweetest  smiles  invited  Pete  to  dismount  and  try  his  metal. 
In  a  moment  Pete  was  on  the  ground  with  his  spurs  and  coat 
thrown  aside,  and  as  a  preliminary  made  his  bright  dragoon 
blade  describe  a  fiery  circle  as  he  derisively  laughed  at  Bill  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  185 

made  the  "right  and  left  moulinet."  Pete  advanced;  Bill, 
smilingly  stood  on  his  guard ;  Pete  made  a  tremendous  "  right 
cut,"  intending  to  slice  Bill's  head  from  his  shoulders ;  Bill 
turned  his  finger-nails  down,  slightly  elevated  his  wrist,  there 
was  a  slight  clanking  of  steel,  and  Pete's  heavy  blade  glanced 
off  harmlessly,  and  Bill  quietly  remarked:  "If  you  do  that 
again  I  will  disjoint  your  right  elbow."  "You  will,  will  you?" 
said  Pete  coming  back  to  a  guard,  "Now  we'll  see,  damn  you  !" 
and  he  brought  his  "  right  hand  to  his  left  shoulder"  with  his 
gleaming  blade  at  a  perpendicular  "  edge  to  the  left ;"  Bill, 
who  stood  on  "guarde  in  carte,"  made  a  slight  turn  of  the, 
wrist,  which  brought  him  in  "  tierce,"  then  as  Pete  launched 
forth  the  full  force  of  his  muscular  right  arm,  Bill  gave  a  dex- 
terous turn  of  his  wrist,  slightly  raised  his  elbow,  and  Pete's 
arm  and  blade  fell,  the  sabre  to  the  ground  and  his  arm  help- 
lessly to  his  side.  "Now,"  said  Bill,  "come  in  and  let  me  fix 
your  elbow,  it  is  only  out  of  joint."  "I'll  give  you  a  thousand 
dollars  if  you  will  teach  me  that  trick,"  said  John  Floyd  Jones, 
one  of  the  party  who  sat  quietly  on  his  horse.  "  Where  in  the 
name  of  all  that's  damnable  did  you  learn  that,"  said  Pete, 
looking  at  his  bleeding  elbow  that  Bill  was  now  engaged  on, 
and  demonstrating  a  skill  in  surgery  not  inferior  to  his  dexterity 
in  swordsmanship.  "Learn  what,"  said  Bill,  "that  was  nothing, 
I  know  you  are  a  good  swordsman  'of  your  school,  but  of  my 
school  you  are  mere  child's  play.  I  could  take  the  ramrod  from 
your  carbine  and  disarm  a  half  dozen  such  swordsmen  all 
attacking  me  at  once.  And  now,"  said  Bill,  addressing  himself 
to  John  Floyd  Jones,  who  was  a  well-bred  gentleman:  "If  you 
gentlemen  will  now  dismount  and  apologize  for  the  rudeness  of 
this  buffoon,  you  will  be  more  than  welcome  to  the  best  we 
have  on  this  ranch."  The  invitation  was  good  naturedly 
accepted,  the  whole  party  turned  their  railery  on  the  wounded 
and  crest-fallen  Pete,  complimented  Bill,  and  gladly  partook  of 
the  hospitality  of  the  Lugo  family,  and  the  polite  and  well-bred 


186  BEMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Bill,  who,  like  one  of  the  knights  of  old  would  fight  a  man  one 
minute  and  minister  to  his  wants  the  next. 

Bill  and  Joaquin  were  chums  before  the  eminent  cut- throat's 
outlawry,  and  Bill  was  suspected  of  over-intimate  relations 
with  "  Vicenta,"  Joaquin's  favorite  and  pretty  sister,  who  at 
the  time  of  the  bloody  career  of  her  brother  dwelt  among  us 
terrestrial  angels.  A  surveillance  was  constantly  kept  over 
Vicenta,  and  necessarily  at  times  fell  upon  my  present  hero, 
whose  knowledge  of  the  secret  operations  of  the  robber  chief 
was  not  only  suspected,  but  was  known,  believed,  and  since 
confirmed.  Still  Bill's  honor  and  chivalry  was  a  safeguard  to 
Joaquin,  that  he  must  have  had  full  faith  in,  for  the  reason 
that  developments  subsequent  to  his  death  proved  that  Bill,  if 
so  minded,  could  have  surrendered  the  chief  at  many  times,  had 
not  Vicenta  and  honor  protected  him. 

Mike  Chevallier  was  a  renowned  hero  of  the  Texas'  revolution 
and  the  Mexican  war,  was  a  graduate  of  the  most  high  school 
of  desperadoes,  and  famous  for  his  many  exploits  on  the  classic 
shores  of  the  Bonny  Bravo.  Of  course  Mike  came  to  California 
in  the  palmy  days  of  gold  dust,  monte  games,  free  fights  and 
revolver  rule,  and  took  a  prominent  position  in  the  upper  crust 
of  bowie-knife  society.  He  never  missed  his  man  until  he  met 
Billow!™  had  been  cutting  up  such  extraordinary  rustics  with 
the  fighting  fraternity  that  his  fame  extended  from  Calaveras 
to  San  Diego,  and  Mike  felt  his  prominence  waning.  Bill  had 
taken  all  the  wind  out  of  Mike's  sails,  who  wrote  to  Bill  from 
Monterey  that  he  "  was  coming  to  Los  Angeles'  to  crop  Bill's 
wings,  and  to  be  prepared  to  give  him  such  reception  as  his 
great  fame  entitled  him  to."  In  due  time  Mike  arrived,  put 
up  at  the  Bella  Union,  and  dropped  a  note  requesting  Bill 
to  meet  him  at  Taos',  in  Nigger  alley,  at  a  certain  hour,  and  to 
be  "  heeled."  Bill  answered  the  note,  and  assured  the  gentle- 
man who  had  done  him  so  great  an  honor  "  that  at  the  hour 
designated  he  would  be  there,  and  would  be  heeled." 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  187 

Accordingly,  at  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Bill  might 
have  been  seen  at  one  of  the  great  gambling  tables  at  Taos', 
looking  on  and  bucking  an  occasional  slug,  and  manifesting  the 
most  careless  demeanor.  Still  those  peculiar '  eyes  were  in  all 
parts  of  the  great  gambling-room.  Bill  had  a  Colt  five- 
shooter,  which  he  carried  in  his  sleeve — a  most  beautiful  way 
to  carry  a  knife  or  revolver,  so  convenient-like,  you  know. 
Reader,  if  you  want  to  be  sure  of  getting  the  draw  on  a  man, 
then  learn  to  draw  from  the  sleeve.  Bill  drew  from  the  sleeve. 
The  quick  eye  of  Bill  soon  descried  Mike  quietly  approaching 
with  his  right  hand  under  his  coat.  Mike  drew  from  the  hip. 
Mike's  tactics  were  common  to  desperadoes,  to  approach  Bill 
unseen,  and  say,  "Draw  and  defend  yourself,"  and  turn  loose 
on  him.  Bill  went  on  carelessly  bucking,  with  an  eye  all  the 
time  on  Mike.  Just  as  Mike  was  going  to  say  "Draw,"  Bill 
faced  about,  and,  covering  him,  said  smilingly  :  "  Mike,  I've 
got  the  draw  on  you.  One  movement,  and  you're  a  dead  man." 
"True  as  Gospel,"  said  Mike,  "you  are  the  first  man  that  ever 
got  the  draw  on  Mike  Chevallier.  Shoot,  or  name  your  con- 
ditions." "My  conditions  are,"  said  Bill,  "that  you  leave 
town  before  daylight,  never  to  return.  Give  me  your  word  to 
that  effect,  and  you  can  go  ;  refuse  it,  and  I  will  shoot  you 
dead."  Mike  made  the  promise,  and  Bill  put  up  his  pistol  and 
invited  Mike  to  drink  to  future  friendship.  The  two  then 
went  off  together  and  took  several  friendly  drinks,  and  when 
about  to  separate  Bill  said :  "  Mike,  do  you  know  the  reason  I 
didn't  kill  you?"  "No,"  said  Mike.  "Well,  Mike,"  said 
Bill,  "you  remember  that  I  arn  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Mili- 
tary Order  of  the  Lone  Star,  and  that  after  establishing  that 
Order  in  General  Houston's  army,  after  San  Jacinto,  that  you 
were  one  of  the  first  initiated  by  me.  Do  you  remember  our 
vow,  and  do  you  see  now  why  it  was  I  spared  you  ?"  "  Great 
God,  Colonel,  am  I  to  believe  my  own  senses  ;  I  now  for  the 
first  time  recognize  you,"  responded  Mike.  Bill  now  with 


188  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER. 

great  dignity  of  manner  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  Mike  was 
left  alone  to  brood  over  his  discomfiture. 

The  truth  of  this  matter  is  that  Bill  had  in  his  former 
experience  belonged  to  the  Carbonari  of  Italy,  and  when  he 
entered  the  Texas  Revolutionary  army  as  Chief  of  Engineers 
he  translated  the  ritual  of  the  Carbonari  and  made  it  appli- 
cable to  his  new  Order  of  the  '•'  Lone  Star." 

True  to  his  knightly  word,  Mike  saddled  his  horse  and  left 
the  slumbering  angels  before  day,  returned  to  Monterey 
gloomily,  fixed  up  his  earthly  affairs,  willed  his  revolver  and 
bowie  to  Bill,  and  committed  suicide  by  taking  two  ounces 
of  laudanum.  Alas,  poor  Mike !  He  for  the  first  time  in  his 
wild  career  mistook  his  man. 

After  an  experience  of  years'  duration,  and  after  mature 
reflection  on  this  interesting  question,  this  thoughtful  writer 
feels  justified  in  advising  the  rising  generation  of  would-be 
desperadoes  to  learn  to  draw  from  the  sleeve.  It  is  a  most 
difficult  and  beautiful  art,  but  when  once  master  of  it,  you 
always  get  the  draw  on  your  man.  Young  man,  learn  to  draw 
from  the  sleeve. 

I  became  very  intimate  with  Bill,  even  on  short  acquaint- 
ance, and  found  him  a  most  agreeable  companion.  He  was  a 
great  cook  as  well  as  a  groat  compounder  of  mysterious  mix- 
tures. When  I  say  cook .  I  wish  to  be  understood  to  mean 
scientific  cookery.  Bill  used  to  say,  "No  one  can  cook  a 
square  meal  unless  he  is  familiar  with  the  science  of  chemistry; 
no  person  should  be  permitted  to  cook  unless  familiar  with 
this  most  useful  of  sciences."  One  time  this  very  temperate 
writer  started  to  the  Dominguez  Ranch  in  company  with 
Myron  Norton.  I  think  maybe  Jack  Watson  was  also  of  the. 
party.  The  trio  were  of  the  total  abstinence  persuasion,  but 
somehow  or  other  when  we  halted,  at  Los  Cuerbos,  it  was 
discovered  that  we  were  well  armed  with  first-class  Mexican 
aguardiente,  which  we  used  to  wash  the  backs  of  our  mustangs 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  189 

when  we  removed  the  saddle  cloth,  a  time-honored  custom 
among  old  Rangers.  You  will  never  gall  your  horse's  back  on 
long  rides  if  you  will  only  carry  some  good  aguardiente  with  you 
and  when  you  remove  the  saddle  cloth,  just  pour  about  a  gill  of 
the  fiery  liquid  on  the  heated  hide  of  your  horse;  good  brandy  or 
whisky  will  do,  but  don't  drink  the  brandy — if  you  do  your 
horse  may  suffer.  Well,  when  the  very  abstemious  trio  halted 
at  old  man  Lugo's,  that  most  interesting  ceremony  was  gone 
through  with,  and  our  horses  were  staked  out,  and  we  stopped 
for  dinner,  and  feasted  on  one  of  Bill's  favorite  dishes  ta-wit : 
"  Soo  Loo  curry."  Reader,  did  you  ever  eat  curry  ?  If  not, 
did  you  ever  eat  the  Mexican  national  dish,  "carne  con  chili." 
Now,  if  you  ever  ate  " carne  con  chili"  you  need  have  no  fear 
of  a  future  hell.  "Carne  con  chili"  is  moderately  cool  in 
comparison  with  Bill's  "Soo  Loo  curry."  Curry  is  hot  and 
when  washed  down  with  aguardiente  it  must  be.  if  possible, 
still  hotter.  We,  however,  used  our  aguardiente  on  our  horse's 
backs,  otherwise  we  might  have  "combusted." 

The  point  this  non-scientific  writer  is  coming  to  is  the 
"  transmutation  of  liquids,"  which  is  only  known  to  adepts  in 
chemistry  like  Bill.  After  "curry,"  without  having  curried 
our  mustangs,  we  continued  our  pilgrimage  to  Don  Manuel 
Dominguez',  leaving  two  bottles  of  aguardiente  with  Bill,  well 
knowing  that  our  heated  mustangs  would  need  some  on  their 
backs  on  our  proposed  return  on  the  morrow.  The  morrow 
came,  of  course,  and  with  the  morrow  came  the  three  "  sons  of 
temperance"  to  Los  Cuerbos,  and  when  Bill  produced  a 
bottle  of  the  aguardiente  of  the  day  before,  we  bathed  the 
heated  hides  of  our  horses  with  as  superior  an  article  of 
old  cognac  as  ever  tempted  the  fidelity  of  a  California  voter 
or  a  Los  Angeles  Councilman — all  the  bona  fide  result  of 
Bill's  inimitable  science. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  Bill  was  about  thirty  years 
old,  judging  from  appearances ;  but  judging  from  his  vast 


190         „  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

knowledge,  great  travels,  marvelous  campaigns  and  voyages, 
Bill  must  have  been  at  least  three  hundred  and  sixty-five.  He 
was  born  on  the  mighty  Ganges,  was  the  son  of  an  officer  of 
high  rank  in  the  East  Indian  service,  while  his  mother  was  said 
to  be  the  daughter  of  a  powerful  Begum,  one  of  the  leaders 
in  the  bloody  Sepoy  rebellion.  After  passing  through  Eton, 
Oxford,  and  graduating  in  some  of  the  continental  seats  of 
learning,  and  after  protracted  travels  in  the  more  civilized 
portions  of  the  world,  our  hero  returned  to  his  native  jungle, 
and  in  due  course  of  time  took  an  official  station  in  the  East 
Indian  service.  The  biographer  confesses  himself  somewhat 
befogged  in  placing  Bill  in  command  of  a  British  war  ship,  or 
the  manner  in  which  he  attained  to  such  high  station,  but 
such  is  the  truth  of  history.  The  writer  also  declares  the  truth 
to  be  that  the  "  Soo  Loo"  pirates  had  been  harassing  the 
Indian  Chinese  merchantmen  to  such  degree  that  Bill  was 
sent  to  chastise  them,  and  what  does  the  reader  suppose  my  old 
Ranger  comrade  did  in  that  emergency  ?  To  be  frank,  then, 
and  to  the  point,  Bill  converted  that  royal  ship  into  a  full 
fledged  pirate,  he  pulled  down  the  royal  cross  and  ran  up  the 
piratical  flag  of  Soo  Loo,  made  common  cause  with  that  grand 
and  defiant  horde  of  pirates,  declared  war  against  the  world, 
and  became  the  terror  of  the  Chinese  Seas. 

The  result  was  as  might  have  been  expected.  In  less  than 
half  a  year  a  whole  squadron  of  the  Royal  navy  was  hot  after 
him,  and  very  soon  our  hero  found  that  part  of  the  world  too 
small  for  him,  and  so  he  steered  for  the  Sandwich  Islands, 
where  he  intended  to  refit,  victual  and  water  his  ship.  No 
sooner  did  he  appear  in  Hawaiian  waters  than  a  full-rigged  and 
heavily  armed  British  cruiser  took  up  the  chase,  and  Bill 
headed  his  ship  for  the  California  coast,  scuttled  and  burned 
her  off  Cape  Mendociuo,  took  to  his  boats,  and  became  the 
discoverer  of  Humboldt  Bay,  where  he  landed  with  what  was 
left  of  his  crew,  and  being  surfeited  on  adventures  on  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  191 

mighty  deep,  boldly  struck  out  on  an  exploration  of  the  then 
unknown  interior.  This  was  in  1842,  and  here  cornes  a  most 
astonishing  assertion — that  this  pioneer  party  of  fugitive 
Britons,  fleeing  from  the  wrath  of  the  enraged  British  Lion, 
became  the  original  discoverers  of  gold  on  the  Trinity  River. 
We  will  not  claim  that  Bill's  fugitive  sailors  were  the  original 
discoverers  of  gold  in  California,  but,  that  they  had  all  left  the 
Trinity  gold  mines  with  their  purses  well  filled  long  before  Sut- 
ter's  mill  was  even  projected,  and  before  the  historical  Marshall 
had  crossed  the  snowy  mountains.  This  writer  was  one  of  the 
pioneers  of  the  Trinity  mines,  and  it  was  well  known  and  mar- 
veled at,  at  the  time,  that  "  Sailor  Bar"  (no  one  knowing  how 
it  got  its  name)  had  evidently  been  worked,  and  nearly  worked 
out.  long  before  the  pioneers  of  1850  commenced  their  opera- 
tions. 

When  the  great  allies  declared  war  against  the  Northern 
Colossus,  Bill  was  on  his  way  to  San  Francisco  with  a  few 
thousand  of  old  man  Lugo's  fat  cattle  which  he  disposed  of,  and 
when  about  embarking  for  San  Pedro  a  letter  was  placed  in 
his  hand  bearing  the  monogram  of  the  Horse  Guards.  Hastily 
opening  the  missive  he  found  it  to  be  a  letter  from  Lord 
Raglan  with  a  request  to  meet  him  in  the  Crimea,  with  the 
assurance  that  it  was  all  right  with  the  Queen  on  account  of 
that  little  Soo  Loo  business. 

The  day  following,  Bill  was  on  his  way  to  New  York  by  way 
of  Panama,  having  sent  a  statement  of  his  account  to  old  man 
Lugo,  retaining  may  be  $  15,000  or  $20,000  with  which  to  defray 
his  expenses  to  the  seat  of  war.  We  will  not  follow  him  on  his 
journey,  but  we  next  find  him  at  the  Allies  Headquarters  in 
the  Crimea,  where  Raglan  urges  him  to  accept  a  position  as 
Chief  of  the  Royal  Sappers  and  Miners,  and  his  old  college 
chum,  Omar  Pacha  offers  him  the  command  of  a  regiment  of 
Turkish  cavalry,  which  offer,  after  many  apologies  to  his 
•cousin  Raglan,  he  accepts,  and  becomes  a  Pacha  of  Thre«  Sails, 


192  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

to  be  known  thenceforth  as  "  Gillermo  Pacha."  With  much 
ceremony  my  friend  the  Pacha  was  inducted  into  his  com- 
mand, and  to  his  surprise,  when  putting  them  through  the 
drill  for  the  first  time,  he  found  them  insolent  and  insubordi- 
nate. After  dismissal  he  sent  for  the  Adjutant  and  Sergeant- 
Major  to  enquire  why  this  was  so,  and  was  coolly  informed  by 
them  that  this  particular  corps  was  the  oldest  in  the  Turkish 
army,  that  it  was  once  commanded  by  the  Prophet  himself, 
and  that  it  acknowledged  no  commander  save  the  Sultan. 
Said  the  Sergeant-Major:  "  When  a  commander  is  placed  im- 
mediately over  us  who  don't  suit,  he  never  lives  to  see  his  second 
battle." 

Bill  thought  over  this  matter  all  night,  and  by  morning  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  his  old  friend  Omar  was  playing  a 
joke,  and  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do.  At  the  next  drill  he 
ordered  the  regiment  to  parade  dismounted,  and  when,  they 
were  drawn  up  in  line  Bill  took  his  position  facing  it,  and 
eighty  paces  to  the  front.  He  then  ordered  the  Adjutant  to 
make  a  detail  of  one  man  from  each  company,  to  report  under 
the  Sergeant-Major,  all  of  which  was  done  in  a  sluggish  kind  of 
way  that  was  indeed  provoking.  But  after  awhile  the  Sergeant- 
Major  reported  his  detail  of  ten  men.  Dressing  them  up 
neatly,  Bill  drew  his  sabre  and  slapped  off  their  ten  heads, 
ordered  the  Sergeant-Major  to  his  post,  and  went  on  and  put 
the  command  through  their  drill  in  a  greatly  improved  way 
from  the  day  previous. 

The  next  day  the  same  operation  was  repeated ;  ten  more 
heads  were  cut  off.  The  next  day  ten  more,  and  on  the  fourth 
day,  just  as  the  regiment  came  most  beautifully  into  line,  the 
Commander-in-Chief,  the  great  Omar,  with  his  full  staff,  rode 
up.  Bill  saluted  him,  and  caused  the  regiment  to  present 
arms.  Omar  inquired,  "How  do  you  like  your  regiment?" 
"  I  am  delighted  with  it,"  said  Bill.  "  Do  they  obey  orders 
promptly  ? "  Omar  again  inquired.  "  Most  beautifully," 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  193 

answered  Bill.  "Give  me  an  example,"  said  Omar.  There  was 
a  battery  near  by,  with  the  guns  loaded,  and  a  sentry  standing 
by  with  a  burning  port  fire.  Bill  motioned  to  a  Captain  on  the 
extreme  right  to  approach.  Then  Bill  called  his  First  Lieu- 
tenant in  the  same  way,  and  the  two  saluted  and  stood  before 
their  Colonel.  "Captain,"  said  Bill,  "go  and  place  your  head 
at  the  mouth  of  that  cannon."  He  obeyed.  "Lieutenant, 
take  that  port  fire  and  fire  off  that  gun."  The  Lieutenant 
obeyed,  and  the  Turkish  army  lost  one  of  its  bravest  captains. 
Bill  then  saluted  the  Commander,  and  said,  "  You  now  see  to 
what  discipline.  I  have  reduced  this  refractory  tribe,  and  I  hope 
your  highness  is  satisfied,  and  will  approve  the  desperate 
remedy  which  was  necessary  to  make  them  what  they  ought  to 
and  will  be  while  under  my  command — the  most  perfect  corps 
in  the  allied  army."  The  great  Omar  did  not  only  approve  of 
what  Bill  had  done,  but  in  addition  thereto  sent  him  as  a 
present  three  most  beautiful  horses  belonging  to  his  stud. 

Does  the  reader  now  wonder  at  the  seeming  mystery  sur- 
rounding this  curious  character,  as  stated  at  the  beginning  of 
this  brief  sketch  of  one  whom  this  historian  could  write  volumes 
about. 

I  have  given  Bill  somewhat  of  a  fictitious  character,  but  in 
all  truth  and  honesty  he  is  one  of  our  most  honored  and  re- 
spected citizens,  and  now  stands  at  the  very  head  of  one  of  the 
scientific  professions,  and  one  whom  this  old  Ranger  delights 
to  call  his  friend  and  to  write  about. 

All  1  have  written  about  this  great  cosmopolite  is  true,  and 
is  vouched  for  on  the  veracity  of  this  veracious  writer,  who 
founds  his  veracity  on  Bill's  own  statements.  And  Bill  is 
truthful,  more  truthful  than  the  average  '49er,  and  why  should 
he  not  be  ?  Did  he  not  first  inhale  the  truth-inspiring  air  of 
California  seven  years  prior  to  the  coming  of -the  Argonauts  ? 


13 


194  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Attempted  Assassination  of  Judge  Hayes — Horses  Stolen  From  San  Ber- 
nardino Ranch — The  Lugos  Pursue,  Attack  and  Defeat  the  Indians, 
and  Massacre  a  Party  of  Americans — Adobe  Houses— The  Fandango — 
Peons  and  Pelados—  Cascarones- -The  Dead  Desperado. 


12,  1851,  late  of  a  bright  moonlight  eve- 
ning, standing  alone  at  the  door  of  his  office,  Main 
jjjf  street,  where  now  is  the  Oriental,  Benjamin  Hayes 
was  shot  at  by  some  one  within  three  feet,  on  horseback.  The 
ball,  says  the  Star,  "passed  through  the  rim  of  his  hat  and 
lodged  in  the  wall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  perforating 
in  its  progress  the  door,  which  is  fully  an  inch  in  thickness. 
The  assassin  (?)  then  instantly  galloped  off.  A  party  of  three, 
including  the  Sheriff,  J.  R.  Barton,  tracked  him  about  ten 
miles  to  a  house  where  they  were  received  by  five  or  six  men  on 
horseback,  who  charged  upon  them,  fired  several  shots,  and 
drove  them  from  the  ground.  The  Sheriff  deemed  it  prudent 
to  return  to  the  city.  He  did  so,  obtained  a  posse,  went  back 
to  the  place  of  encounter,  and  made  a  search  that  proved 
ineffectual.  It  has  always  been  believed  that  this  assault  was 
intended  for  another  individual." 

So  writeth  the  "Centennial  Historian,"  and  hereby  hangeth 
a  tale  of  more  than  ordinary  interest,  of  bloody  import.  Not- 
withstanding this  chronicler  is  forced  to  take  issue  with  his 
respected  and  departed  friend,  the  lamented  historian  aforesaid, 
and  maintain  the'  truth  to  be  that  Benjamin  Hayes  was  the 
very  person  intended  to  be  assassinated  on  the  occasion  above 
referred  to  in  quotation,  and  the  reason  thereof  to  be  that 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  195 

Judge  Hayes  was  then  the  legal  luminary  of  the  city  and 
county  of  the  Angels,  and  was  engaged  in  the  prosecution  of 
two  of  the  numerous  Lugos,  charged  with  murdering  some 
Americans  in  the  Cajon  Pass  in  San  Bernardino  county,  and 
it  was  possibly  thought  best  by  the  friends  of  the  accused  to 
end  the  prosecution  by  ending  the  Prosecuting  Attorney, 
hence  the  attempted  assassination.  Now  the  reader  can  easily 
surmise  why  it  was  that  the  party  of  gringos  under  the  "  most 
useful  man"  went  to  old  man  Lugo's,  and  their  inquisitorial 
intentions  on  that  -visit  and  the  very  delicate,  not  to  say 
dangerous,  position  of  Bill  on  that  occasion,  and  his  satisfac- 
tory definition  of  his  position  in  his  successful  encounter  with 
Pete  Monroe,  mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter. 

Sometime  early  in  1851,  the  Indians  raided  the  San  Bernar- 
dino rancho,  then  the  property  of  the  Lugo  family,  a  branch  of 
which  occupied  the  ranch. 

The  successful  raiders  drove  off  a  herd  of  gentle  horses,  and 
went  out  through  the  Cajon  Pass.  Two  of  the  Lugo's,  with 
half-a-dozen  of  their  dependents,  followed  on  the  fresh  trail  of 
the  desert  Indians,  and  in  the  Cajon  they  found  some  four  or 
five  Americans,  and  one  half-breed  Cherokee  Indian.  The 
Cherokee  being  the  only  one  of  the  party  who  either  spoke  or 
understood  Spanish,  in  response  to  inquiries,  informed  the 
Lugos  that  there  were  only  three  Indians  engaged  in  driving 
off  the  herd,  and  that  they  (the  party)  never  suspected  that 
they  were  other  than  vaqueros  legitimately  engaged.  The 
Lugo  party  pressed  on,  overtook  the  raiders  at  the  Point 
of  Rocks  on  the  Mojave,  and  at  once,  and  without  counting 
noses,  charged  them,  and  to  their  intense  chagrin  and  astonish- 
ment found  the  party  to  consist  of  some  twenty  warriors, 
instead  of  three.  .  A  fierce  conflict  ensued,  hand  to  hand,  in 
which  three  of  the  Lugo  party  were  killed,  and  several  Indians 
were  made  to  kiss  the  desert  sands.  Fortunately  the  Lugos, 
armed  with  Colt  revolvers,  achieved  a  splendid  victory  over  the 


196  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Indians  and  recovered  the  entire  herd.  On  their  triumphal 
return  with  the  gory  scalps  of  their  enemies  dangling  at  their 
saddle-bows,  they  found  the  same  small  party  yet  in  the  same 
camp,  when  the  chief  Lugo  demanded  of  the  Cherokee  why  he 
had  deceived  them  about  the  number  of  the  Indians.  The 
Cherokee  replied  that  he  was  anxious  to  see  them  recover  their 
•stock,  and  was  afraid  to  tell  the  truth,  knowing  that  they 
would  be  too  cowardly  to  follow  a  party  of  Indians  respectable 
in  numbers,  This  brought  on  words,  which  ended  in  the  Lugo 
shooting  the  Cherokee  dead  on  the  spot.  -A  short,  sharp  and 
decisive  conflict  then  ensued,  which  resulted  in  the  Americans 
being  entirely  wiped  out,  and  hence  the  prosecution  against 
the  Lugos  and  the  attempted  assassination  of  the  District 
Attorney,  Benjamin  Hayes.  The  Lugos  were  finally  tried  and 
acquitted,  the  pioneer  lawyer  (Brent)  who  defended  them 
receiving,  as  the  writer  has  been  informed,  $20,000  for  his  fee 
— surely  a  fair  legal  starter  in  a  small  frontier  town. 

One  or  two  more  reminiscences  of  the  bloody  times  of  1853, 
and  the  reader  will  be  drifted  over  into  the  more  quiet  times  of 
'54,  when  matters  became  somewhat  more  pacific,  but  not  less 
interesting. 

Notwithstanding  the  then,  unsettled  state  of  society,  and  the 
general  insecurity  of  life  in  this  angelic  population,  balls,  fan- 
dangos and  festivities  were  the  order  of  the  day. 

The  gringo  reader  may  not  know  the  difference  between  a 
ball  and  a  fandango,  and  the  writer  will  inform  him  thereon. 
The  ball,  or  in  Spanish  baile,  means  the  same  thing  as  in 
English,  a  select  gathering  of  invited  guests  for  dancing  and 
general  jollification  and  amusement,  and  in  Spanish  society  is 
even  more  exclusive  than  among  the  Americans.  On  the  other 
hand  a  fandango  is  open  and  free  for  all.  Ladies  of  the  higher 
ranks  of  society  never  go  to  a  fandango,  and  Dons  of  the  upper 
ton  only  go  in  a  half-way  clandestine  manner.  A  fandango  of 
the  olden  time  was  a  curious  agglomeration  of  all  the  elements 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  197 

of  the  population  so  promiscuously  thrown  together  in  this,  at 
that  time,  curious,  quaint  old  town.  Everybody  then  dressed 
extravagantly  fine.  It  was  nothing  to  find  a  sefiorita  of  the 
most  humble  walks  in  life  arrayed  in xal!  the  costly  silks  and 
satins  of  China  and  India,  resplendent  with  costly  jewelry,  and 
to  find  one  inexpensively  clad  was  the  exception,  and  always 
elicited  remarks  at  her  expense.  Gentlemen  attending  the  fan- 
dango were  always  expensively  and  elegantly  dressed,  and  a 
fandango  was  a  brilliant  but  over-crowded  show.  All  of 
the  old  Spanish  houses  had  one  grand  room  or  sola,  flanked 
by  two  other  rooms,  which  made  up  the  front  of  the  houses. 
Two  large  wings  extending  back,  with  rooms  generally  used  as 
dormitories,  and  a  great  high  wall  in  the  rear,  forming  an  inte- 
rior court  or  square,  witli  wide  corridors  or  verandas  on  the 
three  sides,  both  outside  and  inside  generally  paved  with  brick 
tiles,  a  good  pine  plank  floor  in  the  three  front  rooms,  and  if 
not  in  the  rear  dormitories,  they  had  brick  tile  floors,  the  same 
as  the  floors  of  the  veranda  ;  adobe  walls,  well  whitewashed, 
with  chair-boards  around  the  sala,  good  and  substantial  doors 
and  windows,  with  shutters  generally  painted  green,  as  were 
also  the  cornice  and  columns  supporting  the  verandas,  the 
whole  covered  with  .a  flat  roof,  and  now  you  have  a  description 
of  an  old-style  angel  habitation.  The  ruins  of  many  yet 
remind  us  of  the  good  old  times.  The  happy  days  of  joyous 
revelry  ;  the  gay  baile;  the  noisy  fandango  and  the  hospitable 
fiesta  of  the  times  when  the  Spanish  Californian  was  so  full- 
handed  and  happy,  that  in  his  bountiful  hospitality  he  gave 
little  heed  to  the  "sore-foot  or  the  rainy  day,"  and  reveling  in 
the  happy  present  thought  not  of  the  future.  Alas !  the 
future  is  the  present,  and  he  has  lived  to  see  it  with  sorrow. 

Sentimental  writers  speak  of  the  "old  mud  hovels  of  the 
Spanish  regime."  N"o  greater  libel  was  ever  perpetrated  on  a 
comfortable  house  than  to  call  one  of  those  old  models  of  cool 
comfoit,  one  of  our  old  first-class  adobes,  a  hovel.  The  writer 


198  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

hereof,  although  no  longer  a  man  of  war,  but  emphatically  a 
man  of  peace  and  of  letters,  is  ready  and  willing  to  maintain,  on 
foot  or  on  horseback,  that  one  of  our  old  respectable  one-story 
adobes  of  the  olden  time  was  the  most  comfortable  house,  one 
of  the  most  enjoyable  homes,  the  most  admirable  piece  of 
rural  architecture  that  ever  reared  itself  from  the  sacred  soil  of 
California. 

This  writer  stands  by  the  adobe  house  as  the  coolest  house, 
the  warmest  house,  the  cheapest  house,  and  the  most  earth- 
quake proof  house  (might  as  well  try'  to  shake  down  a  hay- 
stack), and  the  best  house  for  fandangos  that  ever  existed  in 
this  old  city,  of  yore  so  famous  for  her  fights  and  fandangos. 
Nothing  but  an  adobe  house  could  have  stood  an  old-fashioned 
fandango.  A  modern  earthquake  is  no  comparison  to  an  old- 
fashioned  California  fandango,  especially  such  as  we  had  in 
those  good  old  times  in  this  angelic  city.  Alas  !  alas  !  we  will 
never  see  the  likes  of  them  again.  The  old  fashioned  fandango 
is  a  thing  of  the  past.  Reader  let  us  go  to  a  fandango  in 
1853.  Before  we  start  let  us  examine  well  our  revolvers,  oil 
the  cylinders,  and  see  that  the  tubes  are  open,  free  from  rust, 
and  well  capped.  We  will  dress  as  we  please,  only  we  must 
dress  expensively  fine.  We  must  be  sure  and  wear  a  red 
vicuna  hat  with  a  broad  brim  and  a  sugarloaf  crown,  a  gold 
cord  wound  twice  around,  and  heavy  tassels.  We  can  either 
wear  a  blue  clawhammer  with  gilt  buttons,  or  a  modern  black 
frock,  or  an  elegantly  fitting  blue  jacket,  with  a  little  gold 
embroidery,  a  red  Mexican  sash,  sky  blue  pants  and  a  gold 
bullion  stripe  down  the  side  will  make  up  an  outre  fashionable 
fandango  costume,  and  the  last  being  the  Ranger  uniform  we 
are  in  fine  feather  and  ready  for  the  fandango.  To  be  elegant 
we  must  still  have  a  shining  patent  leather  scabbard  with 
silver  mountings  for  our  revolvers.  We  are  not,  however, 
required  to  wear  the  Ranger  costume,  still  we  must  have  the 
vicuna  hat  and  must  not  omit  the  gold  cord  and  tassels,  other- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  199 

wise  we  may  be  regarded  as  gringosa  and  then  we  would  fail  to 
enjoy  ourselves,  and  if  we  dance  it  will  have  to  be  with  some 
old  woman,  whose  jealous  Don  might  give  us  a  dig  in  the  ribs 
with  his  purial  as  we  elbow  our  way  through  the  dense 
crowd  in  taking  our  departure.  A  gringo  stood  no  sort  of  a 
show  at  an  old  fashioned  fandango. 

We  are  now  in  front  of  the  fandango  house,  where  we  elbow 
our  way  through  a  dense  crowd  of  Indians,  peons  and  pelados, 
the  riff-raff,  scruff  and  scum  of  our  angel  population,  and 
amid  jibe  and  jeer  we  gain  the  corridor  or  veranda,  where 
we  find  rancheros  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  all  drinking,  those 
dismounted,  however,  maintaining  careful  hold  of  the  hair 
ropes  of  their  horses,  never  daring  to  tie  them  up,  or  the  peons 
and  pelados  in  the  rear  will  run  them  off  and  spout  them  for 
aguardiente.  After  an  infinite  amount  of  crowding  and  squeez- 
ing, we  gain  the  door,  inside  of  which  we  find  a  dozen  or  more 
dismounted  rancheros  holding  their  hair  ropes  with  their 
horses'  heads  in  near  proximity  without.  As  soon  as  discovered 
by  the  dismounted  rancheros,  they  at  once  open  the  way  with 
the  polite  salutation  of  "Pasan  Vds.  caballeros,"  (pass  in, 
gentlemen);  for  be  it  known,  reader,  that  the  California 
ranchero  was  never  rude.  Even  if  he  choked  one  with  his  lasso 
he  would  be  polite  about  it.  Now  we  are  in  the  grand  fandango 
room,  and  what  do  we  see  and  hear  ? 

The  fandango  is  in  full  blast.  The  musicians  seated  in  one 
corner  of  the  room  perform  on  the  harp,  guitar,  violin  and 
flageolet,  and  make  very  good  music  for  the  initiated  ;  but  to 
the  gringo,  somewhat  discordant,  especially  when  broken  in 
upon  with  a  horrible  essay  at  vocalisra.  The  room  is  packed 
to  its  utmost  capacity,  a  waltz  is  going  on,  gaudily  dressed 
rancheros,  fashionable  and  unfashionable  gamblers,  store  clerks, 
county  officials  and  well-to-do  merchants,  with  representatives 
from  all  lands  under  the  sun,  except  China.  John  never  was 
much  on  the  dance  (his  foot  and  figure  not  being  in  accord  with 


200  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

the  light  fantastic);  Hindoostan  was  represented,  however,  in 
the  person  of  Abdul  Krim  Mullah,  called  by  vulgar  angels  the 
"  Royal  Bengal  Tiger;"  a  brilliant  array  of  Rangers,  with  quite 
a  sprinkling  of  Jews  and  one  or  two  •  young  army  officers, 
went  to  make  up  the  male  part  of  the  fandango,  while  the 
female  part  of  the  house  consisted  of  a  brilliantly  gaudy  crowd 
of  seiioritas  of  various  hues,  ranging  all  the  way  from  a  beauti- 
ful brunette  to  the  regular  black  diamond  (that  is,  while  at 
home);  but  the  senoritas  at  the  fandango  were  all  on  terms  of 
the  most  perfect  equality  as  far  as  complexion  went ;  that  is, 
all  were  of  pearly  whiteness,  in  beautiful  contrast  with  the  jet 
black  brilliancy  of  their  eyes  and  the  raven  color  of  their  hair. 

We  pass  through  to  the  rear,  but  as  we  gain  the  door 
with  our  vicunas  deferentially  doffed,  crash  comes  something  on 
our  heads,  and  we  are  covered  head  and  shoulders  with  a 
gilded  covering  of  infinitessimally  small  pieces  of  gilt  paper, 
intermingled  with  pieces  of  colored  egg  shells.  We  turn  and 
see  the  retreating  figures  of  a  pair  of  mischievous-looking 
coquettes,  who  have  paid  us  the  high  compliment  of  breaking 
cascarones  over  our  heads. 

A  cascaron  is  an  egg  shell  filled  with  gilt  paper  of  all  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow,  cut  as  fine  as  scissors  can  cut  it,  and 
then  packed  into  the  perforated  egg  shell,  the  open  end  of 
which  is  then  closed  up  with  a  piece  of  wax,  and  when  beauti- 
fully painted  with  variegated  colors  is  ready  for  use  at  the 
fandango.  During  the  carnival  this  custom  was  universal,  and 
when  a  sefiorita  broke  a  cascaron  over  a  beau's  head  he,  by  all 
the  rules  of  gallantry,  was  bound  to  respond  by  breaking  one 
over  her  head,  or  maybe  a  dozen,  which  he  usually  did  when 
she  was  wildly  whizzing  in  the  giddy  waltz. 

With  the  fine  cut  glittering  on  our  heads  and  shoulders,  we 
pass  out  of  the  grand  sola  into  the  open  court  and  corridor 
where  we  find  an  immense  throng.  On  our  right,  in  the 
"rincon,"  we  find  a  large  table  groaning  under  liquors  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  201 

confectionery  free  for  all,  because  this  is  an  old-time  fandango 
where  the  master  paid  the  music  and  all  other  expenses, 
including  refreshments.  No  liquors  were  ever  sold  on  such 
occasions. 

On  our  left  a  monte  table  is  in  full  blast.  Kancheros  sur- 
round the  table  and  are  intently  engaged  in  tempting  the  fickle 
goddess.  We  begin  to  enjoy  ourselves,  when  all  at  once  bang 
goes  a  revolver  inside  the  grand  sola,  and  a  commotion  follows,. 
and  a  rush  is  made  into  the  open  court.  Then  more  shots, 
with  a  profusion  of  oaths  in  English.  In  an  hour  or  more 
quiet  reigns  supreme.  The  feminine  part  of  the  fandango 
have  retired  and  the  ranchero  merrymakers,  finding  the  row 
to  be  one  of  gringo  origin  and  to  belong  exclusively  to  the 
gringos,  mount  their  horses  and  quietly  ride  away,  and  then  we 
learn  the  following  to  be  the  facts :  In  the  first  place  we  had 
a  dead  desperado,  and  this  is  the  way  lie  came  to  his  well- 
merited  end.  Bush  was  a  quiet  young  German.  Nimmo  was  an 
American,  ordinarily  a  good  fellow,  but  with  the  third  glass 
of  aguardiente  was  ready  to  fight,  kill  and  destroy  the  whole 
human  family,  including  his  grandfather  or  any  other  man. 
Bush  had  a  sweetheart — a  light,  active,  fascinating  senorita — 
one  who  laid  claim  to  the  proud  distinction  of  being  the  belle  of 
the  ball  room.  This  gay  bird  of  brilliant  plumage  had  honored 
Bush  with  a  bombardment  of  cascarones.  Bush  responded  by 
breaking  his  last  one  on  her  head,  and  as  she  sailed  past  where 
he  was  a  looker-on,  he  turned  and  begged  the  loan  of  one  from 
the  gentlemen  present.  Nimmo  handed  him  one  all  painted 
and  pretty,  and  as  his  angel  swept  by  as  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind,  or  on  the  wings  of  love,  he  gave  her  another  well-directed 
shot,  and  Oh  !  horror  of  horrors !  he  had  broken  a  rotten  egg  on 
the  head  of  the  one  above  all  others  he  wished  to  honor,  com- 
pliment and  please.  He  had  committed  an  outrage  which^  he 
could  never  atone.  Hence  the  shot,  commotion,  stampede  and 
dead  desperado.  Bush  had  shot  Nimmo  dead  in  his  tracks. 


202  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

The  musicians  have  been  paid  and  have  departed ;  a  small 
coterie  gather  around  the  gory  desperado  as  he  lays  stark  and 
bleeding  in  the  place  he  fell ;  his  slayer  has  gone  home  to  brood 
over  his  mishap  and  his  first  murder.  Was  it  the  last  ?  Quien 
sdbe  ? 

We  have  seen  an  old  fashioned  fandango,  and  feel  satisfied 
and  surfeited  on  fandangoes — until  the  next,  and  then  we  are 
sure  to  go  again. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  203 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Alex.  Bell  —  His  Adventures  —  Leads  a  Filibustering  Expedition  to  Equador  — 
Gen.Flores  —  Eminent  Fighting-  Men  —  Walker's  Expedition  to  Lower 
California—  A  .Mexican  Hercules—  Battle  of  La  Grulla—  The  Twin 
Republics  —  The  Old  Flag  Abolished  —  The  Government  Starts  tor 
Sooora  —  Hercules  Heads  It  Off—  Major  McKinstry,  U.  S.  A. 


AN  early  chapter  of  these  reminiscences  mention 
was  made  of  Aleck  Bell,  with  a  promise  of  more  anon 
concerning  that  remarkable  character,  who,  next  to  my 
favorite  hero  "Bill/'  was  the  most  peculiar  angel  that  ever 
drew  inspiration  from  our  native  nectar.  Aleck  was  the  very 
cream  of  chivalry,  the  beau  ideal  of  a  gentlemanly  first-class 
American  adventurer.  I  came  near  saying  vagabond,  but 
hardly  feel  justified  in  using  the  expression,  although  the 
line  of  demarkation  between  the  one  and  the  other  is  very 
zigzag,  and  a  person  hardly  knows  which  side  of  the  line  he 
may  be  on.  To  be  one  he  may  be  the  other,  to  be  the  other 
he  may  be  the  one.  In  the  mind  of  this  experienced  Ranger 
it  is  all  about  the  same  thing.  Aleck  was  about  the  hand- 
somest man  on  the  coast,  near  six  feet  high,  as  lithe  as  a 

% 

Delaware  and  as  graceful  as  a  statue,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
write  about  forty-five  years  old,  and  died  at  San  Francisco  in 
1859,  aged  about  fifty.  However,  during  his  whole  career  on 
this  coast  he  would  never  have  been  regarded  as  over  thirty- 
five  years  of  age. 

The  first  account  I  have  of  Aleck  he  was  captain  of  a 
steamboat  on  the  Tombigbee  river.  How  long  he  had  com- 
manded the  boat  prior  to  the  happening  of  the  event  which 


204  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER 

gave  him  a  fame  as  wide  and  as  long  as  the  Tombigbee  itself, 
history  fails  to  inform  us,  nor  does  it  greatly  concern  us, 
either.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Aleck,  being  captain  of  the 
craft,  according  to  his  general  characteristics  utterly  and  irre- 
trievably swamped  her  in  hopeless  debt.  It  was  said  that 
Aleck's  steamboat  on  the  Tombigbee  became  the  refuge  of  all 
the  impecunious  deadheads,  broken  down  sports  and  played  out 
gentry  in  the  whole  region  of  navigation  from  Mobile  to  Mont- 
gomery, and  that  few  passengers  paid  fare  on  Aleck's  boat. 
Now  to  the  point.  The  steamer  was  quietly  freighting  at  a 
big  pile  of  cotton  at  an  obscure  landing  on  the  river,  when  the 
crew  all  of  a  sudden  knocked  off  and  demanded  their  full 
arrears  of  wages. 

Expostulation,  promises  and  a  free  distribution  of  whisky 
were  of  no  avail ;  further  work  they  refused  to  do.  Aleck 
final!}  adopted  a  ruse  de  guerre — he  offered  them  a  compro- 
mise. He  told  them  if  they  would  stow  away  in  the  hold  of 
the  boat  all  the  cotton  then  on  board,  that  the  owner  of  the 
cotton  would  become  responsible  for  their  pay,  and  would  pay 
them  when  they  arrived  at  Mobile ;  but  he  informed  them  that 
no  arrangement  would  be  made  until  the  stowage  in  the  hold 
was  completed.  The  crew  accepted  the  proposition  and  went 
to  work  with  a  will,  and  about  the  time  the  last  bales  were 
being  stowed  in  ship-shape  manner,  Aleck  quietly  proceeded  to 
batten  down  the  hatches  on  the  whole  crew,  consisting  of 
mates,  fireman  and  deck  hands.  He  then  went  leisurely  to 
work  and  treated  with  the  owner  of  the  cotton  for  "  niggers  " 
to  finish  loading  and  to  fire  up  and  run  the  boat  to  Mobile,  all 
of  which  was  accomplished  in  the  course  of  four  or  five  days, 
and  when  the  boat  was  safely  moored  the  famished  crew,  which 
had  been  all  this  time  without  food  or  drink,  were  dragged  out 
in  such  pitiable  condition  as  to  create  horror  and  indignation 
in  the  minds  of  the  gentle  Mobilians  to  such  degree  as  to 
cause  Aleck  to  suddenly  emigrate  to  Texas,  which  was  just 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  205 

prior  to  the  outbreak  of  the  war  with  Mexico.  On  the  landing 
of  Gen.  Taylor  at  Corpus  Christ!  with  his  army  of  occupation, 
Aleck  joined  him  with  a  spy  company,  and  so  continued  in  the 
service  with  marked  distinction  until  the  close  of  the  war,  when 
he  came  overland  to  California. 

Aleck  was  the  original  1'acific  Coast  Filibuster,  and  as  I 
propose  to  give  an  account  of  all  the  filibustering  expeditions 
that  were  in  any  way  connected  with  this  City  of  Angels,  and 
as  our  present  hero  was  in  the  zenith  of  his  glory,  the  first  man 
and  the  most  prominent  angel  (after  Bill)  of  our  town,  and  as 
he  commanded  the  first  filibustering  expedition  that  ever  left 
the  American  Pacific  coast,  and  as  the  expedition  was  officered 
generally  by  leading  men  of  this  fair  city,  I  propose  to  relate  it 
as  legitimately  connected  with  our  angel  history. 

It  is  strange,  but  nevertheless  true,  that  all  countries  subject 
to  volcanic  eruptions  are  also  peculiarly  subject  to  political 
outbreaks,  revolutions,  or  human  eruptions.  I  say  all  coun- 
tries ;  I  will  except  one — Iceland.  The  people  of  that  island 
are  not  eruptive,  and  for  the  reason,  I  apprehend,  that  they 
have  been  in  perpetual  war  with  the  elements  for  the  last  1000 
years,  and  have  their  hands  abundantly  full  to  fill  their 
stomachs  and  keep  soul  and  body  together,  and  to  keep  from 
freezing  to  death. 

The  distance  is  very  great  from  Iceland  to  Equfador  :  there 
is  not  much  difference,  however,  between  Hecla  and  Cotopaxi, 
and  the  only  possible  difference  in  the  people  is  that  the  Ice- 
landers are  so  poor  that  if  they  should  attempt  a  revolution 
they  would  at  once  be  "froze  out,"  so  they  must  perforce  con- 
tent themselves  in  collecting  blubber  and  wondering  at  the 
eruptions  of  old  Hecla.  JSTot  so  with  the  favored  denizens  of 
torrid  Equador.  When  Cotopaxi  boils,  bellows  and  fumes, 
Quito  is  quiet.  When,  however,  Cotopaxi  behaves  herself  and 
is  disposed  to  be  quiet,  then  Quito  misbehaves,  raises  a  rumpus, 
and  perturbs  the  general  quiet  of  the  country  by  a  political 


206  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

eruption.  In  1850  General  Flores  was  President  of  Equador. 
At  the  time  of  his  inauguration  everything  was  remarkably 
quiet  save  Cotopaxi,  which  was  just  going  it,  and  things  were 
flourishing  under  Flores  until  Cotopaxi  shut  down.  Then  the 
people  raised  a  smoke,  and  Flores  fled  to  Panama,  thence  to 
San  Francisco,  carrying  with  him  enough  of  the  Ecuadorian 
national  finances  to  purchase  the  steamer  Lightfoot,  equip  and 
set  on  foot  an  expedition  of  American  patriots,  who  promised 
to  reseat  the  exiled  President  and  cool  the  ardor  of  the  volcanic 
Quitoans,  and  if  necessary  "  douse  the  glim  "  of  old  Cotopaxi 
itself,  and  stand  by  the  President  to  the  last  doubloon.  Flores 
had  money — bushels  of  it.  Besides  the  public  swag  he  got 
away  wi.h,  his  nephew,  Geronimo  Elizondo,  a  Peruvian  mil- 
lionaire (years  after  Deputy  Clerk  of  Los  Angeles  county), 
gave  him  ten  thousand  doubloons  to  assist  in  reasserting  his 
right  to  rule  those  volcanic  Republicans. 

The  expedition  on  the  Lightfoot  was  composed  of  the  flower 
of  California's  fighting  men,  numbering  250.  The  Owens,  the 
McNabs,  the  Taylors  and  the  Turners  were  of  the  army  of 
restoration,  and  who  of  the  olden  time  Californians,  does  not 
remember  the  great  personal  prowess  of  Billy  Owens,  Jim 
Taylor  and  the  McNabs,  the  most  eminent  of  our  pioneer 
desperadoes  ?  Billy  Owens  finally  finished  Jim  Taylor  in  a 
pistol  fight.  Aleck  commanded  the  army  on  the  Lightfoot, 
which  was  only  auxiliary  to  the  main  expedition  that  rendez- 
voused at  Panama,  composed  of  Spanish- American  military' 
adventurers  and  the  political  adherents  of  Flores,  who.  like 
himself,  had  fled  the  country.  The  united  expedition,  forming 
a  flotilla  of  two  steam  transports,  under  convoy  of  an  armed 
gunboat  (which,  I  believe,  Flores  had  purchased  from  Pern, 
that  government  having  accorded  him  belligerent  rights), 
entered  the  Guayaquil  river,  successfully  engaged  the  shore  bat- 
teries, landed  and  captured  the  city  of  Guayaquil,  where,  the 
strength  of  his  army  being  greatly  augmented,  he  lost  no  time 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  207 

in  marching  on  Quito,  the  unquiet.  Like  a  snowball,  Flores* 
army  gained  strength  as  it  advanced,  the  brave  and  self- 
sacrificing  Americans  forming  a  distinct  corps  and  camping 
separate  from  the  main  army.  To  use  the  language  of  my  old 
friend  Albert  H.  Clark,  of  humorous  memory,  an  officer  of  the 
American  corps  :  "  One  night  there  seemed  to  be  a  very 
unusual  movement  in  camp.  We  could  hear  bodies  of  troops 
moving,  men  working  in  different  directions,  the  rumble  of 
artillery,  for  which  we  could  in  no  way  account  until  morning, 
when  we  found  ourselves  corraled  by  the  whole  army,  with 
barricades  and  entrenchments  in  front  of  them,  all  facing 
inward  toward  us,  horse,  foot  and  artillery.  We  .  were  then 
informed  that  we,  being  more  ornamental  than  useful,  were  to 
be  disarmed,  marched  back  to  Guayaquil  and  shipped  out  of  the 
country.  Our  military  ardor  had  been  very  much  damped  by 
the  tropical  mists  of  the  country,  but  this  was  too  much;  but 
still  we  bore  it.  because  there  was  no  way  of  getting  around  the 
thing.  We  were  disarmed,  marched  under  guard  to  Guayaquil 
and  given  a  free  passage  to  Panama,  where  we  arrived  desti- 
tute, disgusted  and  utterly  surfeited  with  military  expedi- 
tions." Gen.  Flores  had  compromised  with  his  rival,  and  they 
had  agreed  to  rule  jointly,  and  the  patriotic  Americans  were 
dismissed  without  so  much  as  "  Thank  you,  gentlemen."  Of 
the  angels  who  went  on  that  expedition,  the  only  ones  who 
returned,  so  far  as  I  remember,  were  Aleck  himself,  Albert  H. 
Clark  and  Frank  D.  Gilbert,  all  men  of  local  prominence  in 
their  time.  The  Flores  expedition  left  San  Francisco  in  1851. 
The  patriots  did  not,  however,  get  Back  to  Los  Angeles  until 
early  in  1853.  Aleck's  first  break  after  his  return  was  to  form 
a  joint  stock  company  to  work  our  salt  works,  which  resulted 
in  his  effectually  salting  some  of  our  solid  citizens,  Charles  R. 
Johnson  and  Uncle  Billy  Rubottom  in  particular. 

In  October,  1853,  the  barque  Caroline  sailed  from  San  Fran- 
cisco with  the  republic  of  Lower  California  and  Sonora   on 


208  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

board.  William  Walker  as  President,  and  Watkins  as  'Vice- 
President,  with  a  full  complement  of  Ministers,  of  War,  of 
Marine,  of  Finance,  of  Foreign  Relations  and  of  State,  with  all 
their  respective  Secretaries,  and  other  grave  functionaries,  judi- 
cial officers  and  so  forth,  and  too  tedious  to  mention,  and  in  fix- 
ing up  'the  departments  of  government,  with  a  military 
establishment,  generals,  colonels  and  all  such  like,  all  of  whom 
had  to  be  selected  from  less  than  fifty  men,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  there  was  the  traditional  private  to  stand  guard.  In 
November  the  government  of  the  two  republics  reached  La 
Paz,  landed,  scattered  the  inhabitants,  captured  the  Governor, 
proclaimed  the  independence  of  Lower  California,  hauled  down 
the  Mexican  flag,  declared  the  civil  code  of  Louisiana  to  be  the 
law  of  the  land,  and  ran  up  the  flag  of  manifest  destiny — a 
blue  field  and  a  lone  red  star.  All.  of  this  was  done  within  half 
an  hour.  A  few  days  thereafter  a  great  battle  was  fought. 
The  ungrateful  Mexicans  rebelled  against  their  liberators,  two 
or  three  were  killed  on  either  side,  the  rebels  were  whipped  and 
the  government  triumphed.  This  was  called  the  battle  of  La 
Paz.  The  news  of  this  battle  caused  more  enthusiasm  in  Cali- 
fornia than  did  the  battles  fought  by  Taylor  on  the  Rio  Grande 
among  the  war  champions  in  the  United  States.  In  San  Fran- 
cisco the  national  flag  of  the  new  republic  was  flung  to  the 
breeze  on  the  corner  of  Kearney  and  California  streets,  where  a 
recruiting  office  was  opened  and  the  cut-and-dried  bonds  of  the 
government  were  put  upon  the  market  and  sold.  The  war 
spirit  ran  riot.  Freedom  to  the  Mexicans  and  spoils  to  the 
Americans  was  the  battle  cry.  Lower  California  must  be  free, 
and  then,  ho  for  Sonora !  A  league  of  land,  with  cattle  to 
stock  it,  and  all  for  the  trouble  of  going  there. 

Next  came  the  news  of  the  battle  of  La  Grulla,  where  the 
liberators  were  handled  without  gloves  by  a  young  Mexican 
Hercules  named  Melendez,  who  objected  to  being  liberated. 

"Young   America   to   the   rescue/'    was   the   cry.     Men  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  209 

means  advanced  money,  recruits  flocked  to  the  standard  of  the 
government,  headquarters  in  San  Francisco  were  crowded,  the 
drums  clattered,  the  trumpets  brayed  and  the  fifes  screamed. 
•'  La  Grulla  must  be  avenged  !  Melendez,  the  rebel,  must  be 
hung  !  The  Mexican  tyrants  must  be  put  down  ! "  Accord- 
ingly, in  December,  the  barque  Anita,  flying  the  lone  star  flag, 
sailed  from  San  Francisco,  carrying  240  ardent  liberators.  In 
the  meantime  the  government,  carrying  the  archives  with  it, 
abandoned  La  Paz,  which  is  around  on  the  gulf  side  of  the 
peninsula,  and  came  around  and  established  the  national  capi- 
tal at  Ensenada,  where  it  was  joined  by  the  Anita  contingent. 
Encouraged  by  this  formidable  reinforcement,  the  govern- 
ment, by  a  graceful  flourish  of  Walker's  pen,  abolished  the 
old  flag  and  ran  up  in  its  stead  the  triple-barred  and  twin- 
starred  flag,  and  annexed  Sonora,  all  in  a  few  minutes, 
followed  by  a  grandiloquent  proclamation,  which  dwelt  on 
the  "holiness  of  the  cause;"  the  government  was  backed  by 
the  people  of  California,  who  believed  in  the 

"  Good  old  rule — the  simple  plan—- 
That they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 
A.nd  they  should  keep  who  can." 

All  in  all  about  five  hundred  men  rallied  to  the  support  of, 
the  twin  republics.  But  somehow  or  other  young  Hercules 
still  refused  to  be  liberated,  and  kept  harrassing  the  govern- 
ment to  such  an  extent  that  they  found  it  difficult  to  forage 
.for  beef  and  beans,  the  rank  and  file  became  hungry  and 
dissatisfied,  and  some  attempted  to  desert,  for  which  the 
government  had  them  shot.  Melendez,  the  mendacious  rebel, 
kept  pegging  away  at  the  government  until  it  was  driven  from 
its  capital,  without  a  place  whereon  to  rest  its  weary  head, 
and  so  it  set  out  on  foot  for  Sonora.  Melendez  resolved  to  go 
to  Sonora  also,  and  followed  close  on  the  rear  of  the  emigrating 

*  O  O 

government,  harrassed  it  day  and  night,  and  followed  it  across 

the    United    States    line,    the    government    having    deflected 
14 


210  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER. 

towards  San  Diego,  with  Melendez  barking  at  its  heels.  Maj . 
McKinstry,  commanding  the  United  States  post  at  San  Diego, 
charitably  marched  to  the  rescue  and  kindly  took  the  govern- 
ment of  the  twin  republics  in  out  of  the  cold,  and  bade  Her- 
cules Melendez  go  home  and  be  a  good  boy,  cultivate  sandillas 
and  have  an  ever  open  eye  for  jerked  beef. 

The  rag-tag  and  bobtail  of  the  army  came  to  Los  Angeles. 
The  government  was  sent  to  San  Francisco,  where  it  was  tried 
and  acquitted,  and  a  year  or  two  later  went  on  a  pilgrimage  of 
liberation  to  Nicaragua,  with  about  the  same  success  that 
attended  its  unappreciated  efforts  in  Lower  California  and 
Sonora. 

This  writer  of  filibusters  will  excuse  himself  for  the  present, 
and  promise  in  the  next  chapter  to  take  up  and  dispose  of  the 
noble  Count  Gaston  Rausset  de  Boulbon,  and  the  lamentable 
invasion  of  poor  Harry  Crabbe. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  211 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

More  Filibusters — Cafe  Barrierre — Madam  Begon — The  Expedition  of  Count 
Gaston  de  Raoussett  Boulbon  to  Sonora — AllMade  Prisoners— The  Noble 
Count  is  Shot  and  His  Followers  are  Banished  to  Los  Angeles — The 
Crabbe  Expedition  to  Sonora— Its  Objects — The  Ainsa  Family— Gandara 
and  Pesqueira — The  Massacre — One  Survivor  Tells  the  Tale — The  Feast 
of  Demons — Fernandez  the  Traitor — Alexis  Godey  and  Kit  Carson — 
Crabbe's  Original  Letter  to  the  Mexican  Prefect  Announcing  His 
Coming — Pesqueira's  Proclamation. 

WILL  drop  Aleck  Bell  for  the  present,in  order  to 
continue  the  history  of  the  Filibusters.  We  have 
drifted  out  of  '53  to  '54,  when  our  angel  population 
was  greatly  increased  by  the  influx  of  the  rag-tag  and  bobtail 
of  the  exploded  Walker  Government  of  Lower  California  and 
Sonora,  which  gave  up  the  ghost  on  the  San  Diego  side  of  the 
line  about  February,  1854,  after  a  brilliant  existence  of  some 
four  months.  Many  of  our  best  citizens  came  from  the  '-'busted 
up  "  twin  republics  of  Lower  California  and  Sonora,  all  of  whom 
have  disappeared.  The  theory  of  filibustering,  or  manifest 
destiny  was:  "First,  that  the  earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the 
fullness  thereof,  and  we  are  the  Lord's  people  ;  second,  that  all 
Spanish- American  governments  are  worthless,  and  should  be 
reconstructed,  and  that  such  is  our  mission  ;  that  the  people  ot 
Lower  California  and  Sonora  are,  or  should  be,  dissatisfied  with 
Mexican  rule,  and  are,  or  should  be,  ripe  for  rebellion,  and  if  not 
in  terror  of  the  Mexican  central  despotism  would  cry  out  for 
American  aid  to  shake  off  their  galling  chains  ;  the  Sonorefios 
ought  to  rise,  proclaim  their  independence,  and  cry  for  help 
from  the  generous  Filibuster,  who  stood  ready  to  help  the 
down-trodden  Mexican  and  to  feather  his  own  nest  in  particu- 


212  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

lar."  We  were,  therefore,  determined  to  succor  the  oppressed 
people  of  Lower  California  and  Sonora.  who  were  silently  pray- 
ing that  we  might  come  and  relieve  them  from  their  cruel  yoke, 
and  their  surplus  supply  of  horses  and  such  like,  and  possess 
the  lands  of  the  country  and  receive  the  thanks  of  a  grateful 
people  after  we  had  won  their  liberties  and  relieved  them  of 
their  property.  Such  were  the  noble  sentiments  that  inspired 
the  champions  of  manifest  destiny,  or  the  spirit  of  conquest 
run  riot,  and  culminating  in  those  piratical  expeditions  of  1851 
to  Cuba  and  1853  to  Lower  California. 

At  that  time  in  California  it  was  as  unpopular  to  be  op- 
posed to  filibustering  as  it  was  to  be  opposed  to  African 
slavery,  then  our  most  cherished  institution,  and  few  had  the 
courage  to  say  aught  against  it.  Then  who  should  blame  the 
man  who  shouldered  a  rifle  and  went  to  the  field  to  maintain 
and  vindicate  the  spirit  of  the  times.  As  an  instance  of  the 
spirit  that  prevailed  at  the  time,  I  will  .state  as  a  fact  that  in 
1853  and  1854  Don  Pedro  C.  Carrillo  was  one  of  the  most 
popular  and  influential  Democrats  in  the  California  Senate,  and 
that  when  Walker  was  raiding  and  robbing  ranches  in  Lower 
California,  Don  Pedro  greatly  impaired  his  popularity  in  the 
Senate  by  offering  a  series  of  resolutions  in  condemnation  of  the 
Filibusters.  His  resolutions  were  voted  down,  and  ponderous 
blows  were  showered  upon  him  as  being  opposed  to  the  spirit  of 
American  liberty.  Another  was  the  judgment  of  Ogden  Hoff- 
man, of  the  United  States  District  Court,  in  passing  sentence 
upon  Col.  H.  P.  Watkins,  Vice-President  of  the  Eepublic  of 
Lower  California  and  Sonora,  convicted  of  the  crime  of  setting  • 
on  foot  a  military  expedition  against  the  Republic  of  Mexico. 
Said  the  Judge:  "From  my  heart  I  sympathize  with  the 
accused,  but  I  am  sworn  to  the  execution  of 'the  law  and  must 
discharge  my  duty,  whatever  my  sympathies  may  be.  To  the 
law  and  to  the  evidence,  then,  we  must  turn  our  exclusive 
attention.  I  may  admire  the  spirited  men  who  have  gone  forth 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  213 

upon  these  expeditions  to  upbuild,  as  they  claim,  the  broken- 
down  altars  and  rekindle  the  extinguished  fires  of  liberty  in 
Mexico,  or  Lower  California.  It  may  be  that  they  are  not  ad- 
venturers gone  forth  to  build  for  themselves  a  cheap  fortune  in 
another  land.  But  even  were  such  my  opinion  of  their  pur- 
poses, and  their  objects  as  glowing  and  as  honorable  as  depicted 
by  counsel,  still,  sitting  as  a  Judge,  I  should  regard  only  the 
single  question,  has  the  law  been  violated  ? "  The  Vice- 
President  was  convicted  by  a  jury,  and  fined  $1500  by  the 
Judge,  not  one  cent  of  which  was  ever  paid,  neither  was  there 
an  effort  to  enforce  its  collection,  and  no  imprisonment  followed. 
Walker,  the  President,  was  afterward  tried  in  the  same  Court, 
under  a  like  indictment,  and  acquitted.  To  sympathize  with 
filibustering  at  the  time  was  popular.  An  actual  Filibuster 
was  a  lion — a  hero. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1854  we  had  a  most  delightful  accession 
to  our  angel  population  from  the  burst-up  French  filibuster- 
ing expedition  to  Sonora  nnder  the  leadership  of  the  noble 
Count  Gaston  de  Raousset  Boulbon.  Our  population  gen- 
erally, when  not  engaged  in  broils,  was,  at  the  time,  jovial, 
light-hearted  and  happy;  but  the  arrival  of  some  two  hundred 
rollicking  sons  of  Gaul  gave  additional  zest  to  our  happy 
times.  The  fifty  per  cent,  of  those  Gallic  vandals  who  came  to 
our  town  were  of  the  very  essence  of  chivalry^  gallantry  and 
good  humor.  The  most  of  them  went  to  cooking  and  keeping 
restaurants,  some  to  work  in  the  vineyards  and  at  wine-making, 
while  not  a  few  procured  shotguns  and  made  war  on  the  rabbits 
and  hares  and  other  convenient  small  game  fwith  which  the 
country  at  the  time  greatly  abounded.  The  accession  was 
valuable,  and  every  Frenchman  did  his  best  to  make  himself 
not  only  useful  but  ornamental  and  agreeable.  Who  of  the 
bon  vivants  of  the  time  does  not  remember  the  inimitable 
cuisine  of  that  great  master  in  the  art,  Cascabel,  who  was  chef 
at  the  famous  restaurant  of  Madame  Barrierre.  Cascabel  was 


214  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGEU. 

a  gentleman — a  chevalier — and  had  been  a  line  officer  in  the 
army  of  Algiers,  had  in  some  way  or  other  drifted  out  of  the 
service  and  into  California,  embarked  in  the  expedition,  and, 
like  all  noble  Franks  when  in  reduced  circumstances,  took  to 
cooking  as  naturally  as  a  duck  to  a  mud  puddle.  Myself,  my 
legal  friend,  A.  J.  King,  Esq.,  and  the  noble  cook  formed  three 
of  a  company  in  January,  185/5,  to  explore  the  Kern  river 
region,  until  then  a  terra  incognita,  since  which  I  have  had  no 
account  of  Cascabel.  1  think  the  good  coaking  of  the  eminent 
artist  added  greatly  to  the  Venerable  appearance  of  that  prince 
of  good  livers,  Judge  Myron  Norton,  who  was  a  generous 
patron  of  the  Cafe  Barrierre. 

Of  all  that  Frankish  immigration  I  believe  there  are  only  two 
survivors  in  our  city,  and  one  is  Madame  Begon,  who  is  the 
owner  of  a  very  pretty  property  on  Castelar  street,  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  city,  and  the  other  is  one  of  the  prominent  vignerons 
of  the  Vineyard  city.  At  the  coining  of  the  French  Filibus- 
ters the  Madame  was  in  the  very  prime  of  buxom  womanhood, 
and  started  a  small  restaurant  at  the  place  where  the  Ferguson 
A;  Rose  stable  now  stands,  and  for  a  reasonable  compensation 
would  give  you,  in  addition  to  a  well  cooked  dinner  and  bottle 
of  wine,  a  vigorous  lesson  in  rapier  exercise,  for  which  purpose 
she  kept  on  hand  a  pair  of  gloves,  foils  and  masks.  The 
Madame  was  a  master  in  the  use  of  the  foil,  and  my  ideal 
hero,  Bill,  was  the  only  one  I  knew  who  could  stand  up  to  her. 
The  Madame  was  emphatically  a  militaire,  had  served  twenty 
years  in  Algiers  as  a  vivandiere,  and  as  a  natural  consequence 
took  easily  to  filibustering.  How  the  Madame  came  to  Cali- 
fornia I  am  unable  to  say,  but  should  the  reader  be  curious 
to  know,  let  him  call  on  the  fat  old  gray-haired  dame  who 
reclines  in  her  easy  chair  and  lives  easily  off  her  rents,  at  her 
residence  on  Castelar  street.  As  far  as  the  French  Sonora 
filibustering  emigration  to  Los  Angeles  is  concerned,  Madame 
Begon  stands  high. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.  215 

Count  Raousset  was  also  an  ex-French  militaire,  and  of 
former  high  rank — how  high  I  could  never  learn,  but  I  am 
free  to  maintain,  on  the  honor  of  a  truthful  chronicler,  that  if 
not  so  high  as  general  it  was  certainly  above  that  of  corporal; 
and  had  fortune  prolonged  his  days  of  usefulness  to  the 
present,  and  to  our  city,  he  would  have  been  at  least  a  colonel. 
How  the  noble  G-aston  came  to  California  it  is  riot  necessary 
to  inquire,  but  it  is  fair  to  presume  that  like  all  of  us,  from 
the  noble  Duke  of  Sonora  to  the  humble  writer  of  these 
reminiscences,  he  came  to  better  his  condition,  and  the  first 
step  in  that  direction  was  into  the  kitchen  of  a  French  hotel 
in  San  Francisco,  where  he  became  chief  cook.  Our  climate, 
however,  having  an  elevating  influence  on  the  illustrious  repre- 
sentative of  the  noble  house  of  Boulbon,  as  well  as  on  Amer- 
icans, and  pining  for  conquest,  his  first  capital  was  invested  in 
a  shotgun,  with  which  he  sallied  forth  to  war  on  the  myriads  of 
aquatic  fowl  which  covered  the  face  of  the  deep'  sloughs  across 
the  bay.  The  Count  was  successful  in  his  new  venture  beyond 
his  most  sanguine  anticipations,  counted  his  accumulations  by 
thousands,  and  thereby  counted  up  a  good  bank  account  and 
sighed  for  worlds  to  conquer. 

About  this  time  the  San  Francisco  world  was  venting  its 
ridicule  on  the  exploded  Walker  twin  governments  of  Sonora 
and  La  Baja,  which  led  the  ambitio'us  Boulbon  to  conceive  a 
scheme  of  conquest  worthy  of  the  mettle  of  French  valor.  So 
having  the  ins  and  outs  of  cookery  in  San  Francisco,  he  easily 
cooked  up  a  kitchen  cabinet  and  resolved  himself  to  be 
Governor-General  and  Military  Dictator  of  Sonora.  With 
G-aston  de  Raousset  to  resolve  was  to  act.  to  act  was  to 
achieve.  So  early  in  the  season  the  ship  Challenge  spread  her 
canvas  to  'the  breeze  and  sailed  out  of  the  Golden  Gate, 
carrying  "  Caesar  and  his  fortunes,"  backed  up  by  four  hundred 
bristling  bayonets.  The  noble  Gaul  was  on  his  way,  fully  bent 
on  ruling  or  ruining  the  Sonora  roost.  The  Count  was  beyond 


21G  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

question  a  good  cook,  and  had  counted  on  dishing  up  the 
Sonoreuos  like  beef  a  la  mode.  But  that  peculiar  people, 
being  adepts  in  the  business  themselves,  most  effectually  (as 
the  sequel  will  show)  cooked  the  poor  Frenchman's  goose  and 
sent  his  scullions  to  h Los  Angeles. 

What  the  complications  were  that  surrounded  the  expedition 
of  Raousset  de  Boulbon  were  never  fully  understood,  and  if 
known  at  the  time  would  have  doubtless  been  forgotten.  But 
if  my  memory  serves  me — and  I  only  write  from  memory — I 
believe  there  was  a  rivalry  between  _,two  military  chieftains  in 
Sonora,  Yafiez  and  Blanco,  and  one  Don  Luis  del  Valle 
represented  that  the  gentle  Sonorenos  were  honestly  crying  for 
help  from  the  galling  despotism  of  some  one  or  something, 
(Don  Luis  was  Mexican  Consul  at  San  Francisco) ;  that  every 
man,  woman  and  child  had  a  pair  of  old-fashioned  plow 
clevises  securely  riveted  on  their  ankles,  with  great  Down  East 
log  chains  imported  for  that  particular  purpose,  welded  into 
each  particular  clevis,  which  each  particular  man,  woman  and 
child  in  Sonora  were  compelled  to  drag  around  in  all  of  their 
business,  agricultural,  commercial,  domestic  or  mechanical, 
chafe  or  no  chafe.  Hence  the  wail  of  despair,  the  cry  for  help, 
as  represented  by  the  patriotic  Don  Luis.  "A  burnt  child 
dreads  the  fire."  The  Americans  had  burnt  their  fingers  in 
attempting  to  strike  off  tne  shackles  of  despotism  in  La  .Baja, 
and  we  would  "place  our  thumbs  on  our  noses  and  gyrate  our 
fingers  at  Don  Luis  when  he  talked  about  chains,  and  we  would 
say,  "  Tell  that  to  the  marines."  But  the  polite  Frenchmen, 
not  understanding  our  slang,  fell  into  Don  Luis'  trap  and  so 
got  their  fingers  burnt.  The  chains  were  red  hot. 

After  landing  at  Guaymas  a  severe  and  hotly  contested  battle 
was  fought  between  the  Mexican  regulars  and  militia  under 
General  Yafiez,  4o  the  number  of  about  four  hundred,  and  Connt 
Raousset  and  his  unfortunate  followers,  of  the  same  number. 
The  battle  lasted  three  hours,  the  Mexicans  using  artillery. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  217 

The  Count's  men  were  dumbfounded  at  being  attacked,  whereas 
they  had  expected  to  be  received  as  liberators.  This  surprise 
gave  the  Mexicans  the  advantage.  The  Count  performed  prod- 
igies of  valor,  and  after  a  loss  of  forty-eight  killed  and  seventy- 
eight  wounded  he  surrendered,  was  tried  by  military  commis- 
sion, condemned  and  shot  on  the  beach  at  Guaymas,  meeting 
his  fate  like  a  Christian  hero.  He  met  his  fate  with  so  much 
dignity  and  firmness  as  to  excite  only  admiration  and  respect 
on  the  part  of  the  gentle  people  whose  chains  he  wished  to 
break. 

When  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  remember  that  Don  Luis  del 
Valle  was  arrested,  tried  and  convicted  in  the  United  States 
District  Court  for  setting  on  foot  a  filibustering  expedition. 
But  as  neither  the  District  Attorney,  the  attorneys  for  the 
defendant,  the  judge  or  the  jury  could  understand  head  or  tail 
of  the  "complications,"  as  they  called  them,  the  whole  question 
was  dismissed,  greatly  to  the  relief  of  all  concerned,  the  govern- 
ment in  particular. 

Thenceforth  for  two  long  years  the  oppressed  people  of  Sonora 
patiently  bore  their  ills.  Not  a  wail  or  cry  for  help  was  heard 
from  that  down-trodden  people.  The  harsh  clanking  of  those 
horid  down  East  log  chains  that  encumbered  the  limbs  of  the 
athletic  Yaquis  and  their  kindred,  and  dragged  at  the  heels  of 
the  fair  ladies  of  the  land  as  they  whirled  in  the  giddy  waltz, 
failed  to  reach  the  ear  of  the  liberty-loving  Filibuster,  and 
Sonora  was  left  to  fight  it  out  in  the  fashion  of  the  Kilkenny 
cats  until  Crabbe  put  in  an  appearance  early  in  1857.  Many 
deny  that  Crabbe  was  a  Filibuster,  but  I  affirm  that  he  was, 
and  the  assertion  is  based  on  the  following  facts  : 

In  1856  the  Walker  government  in  Nicaragua  was  a  con- 
ceded success,  and  filibustering  was  popular.  Crabbe  was  a 
disappointed  politician,  having  aspired  to  an  election  as  the 
Know  Nothing  candidate  for  United  States  Senator  on  the 
meeting  of  the  Legislature  of  1856.  He  was  ambitious  and 


218  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

poor,  aud  had  married  into  a  ruined  family — that  is,  once  rich, 
now  poor  and  proud.  Walker  had  conquered  a  firm  footing  in 
Central  America,  with  the  capital  of  Mexico  as  the  objective 
point  of  his  career  of  conquest.  Crabbe  would  start  in  on 
Sonora,  wage  his  conquests  southward,  and  meet  and  greet  us 
as  common  brothers  in  a  common  cause,  and  celebrate  the 
conquest  of  Central  America  and  Mexico  in  the  ancient  capital 
of  the  Montezumas.  How  do  I  know  this  as  being  the  ambi- 
tious dreams  of  Crabbe  when  he  left  San  Francisco  for  Los 
Angeles  ?  This  is  the  way  I  know  it.  Being  in  Nicaragua  at 
the  time,  we  received  letters  from  our  friends,  members  of  the 
expedition  ;  one  in  particular  from  Admiral  Gift — that  is,  the 
late  George  W. — who  was  to  command  the  navy  of  the  grand 
invasion  that  was  to  "throw  thirty  thousand  men  into  Mexico 
before  the  heat  of  summer  falls  upon  us."  In  Nicaragua  we 
had  the  secrets  of  the  invasion,  and  were  bantered  as  to  who 
would  be  first  at  the  feast  in  the  City  of  Mexico.  Crabbe  was 
a  Filibuster,  and  why  not  ?  Were  we  not  all  Filibusters  at  the 
time  ? 

The  Ainzas  were  a  family  of  Manilla  Spaniards,  an  old  man 
with  three  highly  educated  sons  and  several  beautiful  and  ac- 
complished daughters,  the  oldest  of  whom  married  Crabbe,  the 
next  married  Bacey  Bevan,  the  third  a  gentleman  named  Cor- 
telyou,  the  fourth  a  Dr.  Talliaferro,  a  member  of  the  Legisla- 
ture of  1856.  Cortelyou  went  with  Crabbe  to  Sonora,  and  was 
killed.  The  sons  were  afterwards  arrested  and  imprisoned  in 
Sonora,  and  were  released  on  demand  of  the  United  States,  they 
being  naturalized  citizens.  The  Ainzas  came  from  Manilla 
with  immense  wealth,  and  settled  iii  Sonora,  investing  all  of 
their  capital  in  mines  and  lands,  which  were,  in  the  due  course 
of  revolution,  confiscated,  and  the  family  came  to  Los  Angeles 
-as  refugees,  afterwards  settled  in  Stockton,  and  later  in  San 
Francisco,  where  they  dwelt  in  1855-6.  In  1856  there  was  a 
rivalry  between  two  chief tains  in  Sonora — Gandara  and  PCS- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  219 

queira.  Gandara  was  in,  Pesqueira  was  out.  So  Crabbe  made 
an  arrangement  with  Pesqueira  to  help  him  oust  Gandara,  and 
Pesqueira  was  to  restore  the  confiscated  Ainza  estate  and 
reward  Crabbe's  followers  with  land  grants,  and  horses,  and 
such  like  privileges.  That  was  only  the  entering  wedge  to  the 
towering  ambition  of  Crabbe,  who  was  a  man  of  confessedly 
great  ability. 

It  seems  that  when  Crabbe's  plans  were  perfected  he  had 
about  one  thousand  men  enlisted.  Possibly  some  two  or  three 
hundred  went  to  Yurna,  where  some  defection  took  place,  and 
many  abandoned  the  enterprise.  Crabbe,  like  Pizarro  of  re- 
nown, gave  all  who  chose  the  privilege  of  backing  out,  but 
informed  them  that  after  once  breaking  camp  at  Yurna  all 
would  be  subject  to  strict  military  discipline,  and  desertion 
would  be  punished  with  death.  He  set  out  from  Yurna,  how- 
ever, with  about  one  hundred  men,  and  made  a  temporary 
camp  at  a  place  on  the  Gila  known  to  the  present  day  as  Fili- 
buster Camp,  in  order  to  rest  and  prepare  for  the  march  across 
the  arid  desert  intervening  between  the  Gila  and  Sonora. 

In  the  meantime,  Pesqueira  and  Gandara  had  made  up  their 
quarrel  on  the  common  basis  of  "  death  to  the  Filibusters." 
On  reaching  the  frontier  town  of  Sonoita  Crabbe  was  first  made 
aware  of  Pesqueira's  treachery,  and  that  the  compact  between 
the  two  patriots  was  to  be  sealed  with  the  blood  of  himself  and 
his  followers.  He  had  gone  too  far  to  retreat.  Crabbe  was  a 
man  of  true  metal,  and  being  in  for  it  he  determined  to  do  or 
die.  He  accordingly  issued  a  proclamation,  here  given  word 
for  word,  setting  forth  his  peaceful  and  legitimate  object  in 
coming,  his  determination  to  stay,  his  ability  to  defend  himself 
if  attacked,  and  then  pushed  forward  to  Caborca. 

SONOITA,  March  26,  1857. 
Don  Jose  Maria  Eedondo,  Prefect  of  the  District  of  Altar: 

SIR:  In  accordance  with  the  colonization  laws  of  Mexico, 
and  in  compliance  with  several  very  positive  invitations  from  the 


220  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

most  influential  citizens  of  Sonora,  I  have  entered  the  limits  of 
your  State  with  one  hundred  companions  and  in  advance  of 
nine  hundred  others,  in  the  expectation  of  making  happy  homes 
with  and  among  you.  I  have  come  with  the  intention  of 
injuring  no  one;  without  intrigues,  public  or  private.  Since 
my  arrival  I  have  given  no  indication  of  sinister  designs,  but 
on  the  contrary  have  made  pacific  overtures.  It  is  true  that  I 
am  provided  with  arms  and  ammunition,  but  you  well  know 
that  it  is  not  customary  for  Americans  or  any  other  civilized 
people  to  travel  without  them;  moreover,  we  are  about  to  travel 
where  the  Apaches  are  continually  committing  depredations. 
From  one  circumstance  I  imagine,  to  my  surprise,  that  you  are 
preparing  hostile  measures  and  collecting  a  force  for  destroying 
me  and  my  companions.  I  know  that  you  have  given  orders  for 
poisoning  the  wells  and  have  prepared  to  use  the  vilest  and  most 
cowardly  measures.  But  bear  in  mind,  sir,  that  whatever  we 
may  have  to  suffer  shall  fall  upon  the  heads  of  you  and  those 
who  assist  you.  I  could  never  have  believed  that  you  would  de- 
file yourselves  by  such  barbarous  practices.  I  also  know  that  you 
have  not  ceased  to  rouse  against  us,  by  mischievous  promises, 
the  tribe  of  Papagos,  our  best  friends.  But  it  is  very  likely 
that,  considering  my  position,  your  expectations  will  be  baffled. 
I  have  come  to  your  country  having  a  right  to  do  so,  and  as 
has  been  shown,  expecting  to  be  received  with  open  arms  ;  but 
now  I  conceive  that  I  am  to  encounter  death  among  enemies 
destitute  of  humanity.  As  far  as  concerns  my  companions  now 
here  and  about  to  arrive,  I  protest  against  any  evil  procedure 
toward  them.  You  have  your  own  course  to  follow,  but  bear 
this  in  mind :  should  blood  be  shed,  on  your  head  be  it  all  and 
not  on  mine.  Nevertheless,  you  can  make  yourself  sure,  and 
proceed  with  your  hostile  preparations.  As  for  me,  I  shall  lose 
no  time  in  going  to  where  I  have  for  some  time  intended  to  go, 
and  am  only  waiting  for  my  party.  I  am  the  leader,  and  my 
intention  is  to  obey  the  promptings  of  the  law  of  nature  -and  of 
self-preservation.  Until  we  meet  at  Altar  I  remain, 
Your  obdt.  servt., 

HENRY  A.  CRABBE. 

This  letter  is  given  to  the  Warden  of  Sonoita,  to  be  delivered 
without  delay  to  the  Prefect  of  Altar.  H.  A.  C. 

Four  days  later  Pesqueira  issued  the  following  modest  Pro- 
.clama  to  the  gentle  people  of  Sonora  [Translation]  : 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  221 

TGNACIO  PESQUEIRA, 

Substitute  Governor  of  the   State   and    Commander-in-Chief 
of  the  Forces  of  the  Frontier,  to  His  Fellow -Citizens  : 

FREE  SONORENOS  !     To  ARMS,  ALL  !  ! 

The  hour  has  sounded,  which  I  lately  announced  to  you,  in 
which  you  would  have  to  prepare  for  the  bloody  struggle  which 
you  are  about  to  enter  upon. 

In  that  arrogant  letter  you  have  just  heard  a  most  explicit 
declaration  of  war  made  by  the  chief  of  the  invaders.  What 
reply  does  it  merit  ?  That  we  march  to  meet  him. 

Let  us  fly,  then,  with  all  the  fury  of  hearts  intolerant  of  op- 
pression, to  chastise  the  savage  Filibuster  who  has  dared,  in  an 
unhappy  hour,  to  tread  our  national  soil,  and  to  provoke, 
insensate,  our  rage. 

Show  no  mercy,  no  generous  sentiments,  toward  these 
hounds ! 

Let  them  be  like  wild  beasts  who,  daring  to  trample  under 
foot  the  law  of  nations,  the  right  of  States  and  all  social  insti- 
tutions, dare  to  invoke  the  law  of  nature  as  their  only  guide, 
and  to  appeal  to  brute  force  alone. 

Sonorenos,  let  our  conciliation  become  sincere  in  a  common 
hatred  of  this  accursed  horde  of  pirates,  destitute  of  country, 
religion  or  honor. 

Let  the  tri-colored  ribbon,  sublime  creation  of  the  genius  of 
Iguala,  be  our  only  distinctive  mark,  to  protect  us  from  the 
enemy's  bullets  as  well  as  from  humiliation  and  affront.  Upon 
it  let  us  write  the  beautiful  words,  ^LIBERTY  OR  DEATH,"  and 
henceforth  it  shall  bear  for  us  one  more  sentiment,  the  powerful, 
invincible  bond  that  now  unites  the  two  parties  of  our  State, 
lately  divided  by  civil  war. 

We  shall  soon  return  covered  with  glory,  having  forever 
secured  the  welfare  of  Sonora,  and  having,  in  defiance  of 
tyranny,  established  in  indelible  characters  this  principle:  The 
people  that  wants  liberty  will  have  it. 

Meanwhile  citizens,  relieve  your  hearts  by  giving  free  scope 
to  the  enthusiasm  that  oppresses  them. 
Viva  Mexico'     Death  to  the  Filibusters. 

YGNACIO  PESQUEIRA. 

Ures,  March  30,  1857. 

Upon  entering  Cab<n-ca  he  was  attacked  in  front,  flank  and 
rear,  desperately  fought  his  way  to  the  plaza,  and  was  there 
forced  to  assume  the  defensive,  which  was  successfully  main- 
tained against  twenty  times  his  number  for  several  days,  and 


222  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

finally,  under  solemn  guarantees  and  after  more  than  half  his 
men  had  been  killed,  and  nearly  if  not  all  wounded,  himself 
included,  his  ammunition  exhausted,  the  house  in  which  he 
had  taken  refuge  burning  over  his  head,  Crabbe  laid  down  his 
arms  and  surrendered.  Within  less  than  twelve  hours  the 
whole  party,  the  well  and  the  wounded,  were  murdered  in  the 
most  barbarous  manner.  Their  heads  were  severed  from  their 
mutilated  bodies,  and  the  head  of  Henry  A.  Crabbe  was  placed 
on  a  dish  to  adorn  the  head  of  the  table  at  the  grand  dinner 
celebrated  two  days  after  the  butchery,  and  over  which  his 
former  ally,  Ygnacio  Pesqueira,  presided.  The  bodies  of  his 
followers  were  left  on  the  ground  to  be  devoured  by  the  swine, 
and  of  course  in  some  degree  contributed  to  the  general  weal 
of  the  good  people  of  Oaborca. 

While  Crabbe  was  besieged  at  Caborca  a  small  party  of 
about  twenty  men,  under  my  Ranger  comrade,  Grant  Oury, 
whose  name  I  unfortunately  omitted  in  naming  the  survivors 
of  the  Ranger  company — Grant  is  now  member  of  Congress 
from  Arizona — started  from  Tucson  to  his  relief,  and  reached 
the  vicinity  of  the  town  just  before  the  surrender,  but  could 
in  no  way  aid  him.  They  were  surrounded  by  Mexicans  and 
had  to  fight  their  way  the  entire  distance  to  the  American  line. 
On  his  march  Crabbe  had  left  two  sick  men  at  a  ranch  on  the 
American  side  of  the  line — men .  who  never  saw  Sonora. 
A  party  of  Sonora  chivalry  came  over  and  dragged  these 
two  sick  men  from  their  beds  and  brutally  murdered  them. 
There  was  one  survivor  of  the  Crabbe  party,  a  boy  named 
Evans,  aged  fourteen  years,  who  was  permitted  to  witness  the 
butchery  of  his  companions  and  to  be  present  at  the  feast  of 
reconciliation.  In  the  summer  of  1857  I  met  this  boy  Evans, 
from  whom  I  learned  the  details  above  stated,  and  which  I 
believe  are  in  the  main  correct.  The  reader  will  lose  no  time 
in  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  Pesquiera  was  a  very  great 
villain,  whose  true  merits  might  be  given  the  meed  of  his  just 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  223 

deserts  only  by  a  second  Shakspeare — an  ordinary  pen  would  fail 
to  do  him  justice.  The  true  actor  and  superlative  villain  in  the 
horrible  conspiracy  and  tragedy  was  one  Fernandez,  whose  full 
name  I  forget,  but  whose  antecedent  history  I  am  quite  familiar 
with,  and  will  proceed  to  give  it,  although  it  carries  me  back  to 
the  first  exploring  expedition  to  the  then  unknown  region  in 
1844  by  John  C.  Fremont. 

Fremont   says    in    his  narrative,    (which   I   have    not    seen 
since  1850,)  that  on  his  way  from  Los  Angeles  to  Santa  Fe  in 
1844,    on  reaching   some   springs   somewhere   in   our   present 
Arizona,  he  found  a  party  of  Mexicans  recently  murdered  by 
Indians ;  that  one  very  small  boy,  four  or  five  years  old,  had 
escaped  the  general  massacre,  and  when  discovered  was  cling- 
ing to  the  body  of  his  dead  mother  and  crying  piteously.     The 
sight   of    the   dead   mother    and    living    infant   excited   such 
sympathy  and  indignation  in  the  minds  of  the  brave  men  of 
Fremont's  party  that  Kit  Carson  and  Alexis  GJ-odey  obtained 
permission  to  pursue  the  murdering  savages,  which  they  did 
(the  two  men  only),  following  the  trail  for  two  or  three  days. 
They  overtook,  surprised,  killed  and  routed  the  murderers,  re- 
captured and  brought  back  the  horses  of  the  murdered  Mex- 
icans— one  of  the  most  brilliant  exploits  recorded  in  the  annals 
of  Indian  warfare,  and  places  the  names  of  Carson  and  G-odey 
at  the  head  of  the  column  of  American  pioneer  heroes.     The 
little  Fernandez  was  tenderly  cared  for,  taken  to  Washington, 
adopted  in  the  family  of  the  great  Benton,  raised  and  educated 
as  a  gentleman.     Attaining  manhood'he  came  to  Los  Angeles, 
and  afterwards  went  to  Sonora.     It  was  he  who  negotiated  be- 
tween Pesqueira,  the  Ainzas  and  Crabbe,  and  procured  the 
assistance  of  Crabbe  for  Pesqueira.     It  was  he  who  negotiated 
the  terms  of  peace  between  G-andara  and  Pesqueira,  to  be  based 
on  the  massacre  of  the  Crabbe  party  of  Americans,  and  it  was 
he  who  actad  as  chief  butler  and  master  of  ceremonies  at  the 
feast  of  demons.     Far  better  for  the  good  name  of  humanity 


224  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

had  Fremont  been  a  day  late  at  the  scene  of  the  murder  of  the 
boy's  parents,  in  order  that  the  jackals  or  vultures  could  have 
feasted  on  his  infant  carcass,  and  saved  the  world  so  great  a 
shame. 

The  exploits  of  the  pioneer  heroes  of  the  former  great  West, 
to  us  the  East,  has  been  the  theme  of  song  and  story,  as  will 
our  history  of  Indian  fights,  adventures  and  escapes  of  the 
early  pioneers  of  California  in  crossing  desert  and  mountain. 
Having  in  this  chapter  made  a  digression  to  record  that  marvel- 
ous performance  of  Carson  and  Godey,  it  will  be  quite  apropo 
to  relate  two  wonderful  adventures  in  digger-land  as  related  by 
D.  M.  Adams,  Esq.,  the  biographer  of  A.  W.  Potts,  Esq.,  who 
has  been  Clerk  of  Los  Angeles  County  for  so  long  a  time  that 
the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  contrary,  a  pioneer  of 
'49,  and  one  whom  the  people  so  love  and  honor,  that  he  could 
be  Governor  of  our  great  State  but  for  his  excessive  modesty. 
Says  his  biographer: 

"One  evening,  along  in  July,  1849,  the  train  to  which  young 
Potts  belonged  went  into  carnp  on  the  banks  of  the  Upper 
Humboldt.  Not  a  stick  of  wood  was  in  sight  except  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river,  which  was  running  bank-full.  Not 
even  a  handful  of  buffalo  chips — the  campers'  last  resort — 
<;ould  be  found.  It  was  plain  that  the  crowd  would  have  to  go 
without  coifee,  slapjacks  and  fried  bacon,  as  matters  stood. 
But  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  stood  a  perfect  thicket  of 
partly-burnt,  dead  willows — just  the  thing  for  a  good  camp 
fire.  Young  Potts,  who  always  was  an  expert  swimmer, 
proposed  to  strip  off,  swini  across  and  get  enough  to  boil  coffee 
with.  And  he  did  so — that  is,  he  stripped  and  swam  across, 
after  which  (and  being  naked)  he  walked  some  distance  to 
where  the  willows  stood,  fearing  no  danger,  although  they  were 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  Shoshones.  He  had  just  commenced 
breaking  some  willows  when  from  all  sides  and  within  twenty 
or  thirty,  yards  arose  a  perfect  forest  of  Indian  heads,  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.  225 

simultaneously,  a  wild,  blood-curdling  war-whoop  from  a 
hundred  lusty  throats,  burst  upon  the  air,  and  the  way 
young  Andrew  Wilson  Potts  almost  jumped  out  of  his  skin 
(all  he  had  on)  and  cut  for  that  river,  was  a  caution  to  the 
jack-rabbits  and  telegraph  lizards  of  that  delectable  region. 
The  startled  sage-hen  whirred  away  in  alarm,  and  the  usually 
happy  horned  toad  stopped  short  in  his  amorous  antics  and 
gazed  in  petrified  amazement  at  the  spectral  form  flying  by  with 
the  swiftness  of  the  wind.  He  reached  the  river  ;  a  plunge,  a 
splash,  and  he  was  safely  across,  he  hardly  knew  how.  After 
reaching  his  own  bank  he  ventured  to  look  back,  and  there  he 
saw  a  host  of  dusky  maidens  and  warriors  laughing  loud  and 
laughing  deep,  holding  their  very  stomachs  to  keep  from 
falling  down,  in  their  convulsive  he-hawing.  The  aboriginal 
jokers  of  the  desert  had  played  it  on  him — had  simply  yelled 
to  see  him  run — and  were  having  their  fun  out  at  his  expense. 
Of  course  they  could  have  shot  him  dead  at  first  if  they  had 
wanted  to. 

"  But  A.  W.  subsequently  got  even  on  the  redskin  race  for 
this  practical  business.  After  he  had  reached  California,  and 
had  been  here  two  or  three  years,  he  was  engaged  in  mining  on 
the  Upper  Merced.  He  and  his  partners  had  taken  out  con- 
siderable coarse  gold  from  a  bar  in  the  stream,  below  which 
there  was  a  very  deep  hole  in  the  river.  Some  one  suggested 
that  a  large  quantity  of  the  precious  metal  might  have  washed 
down  and  lodged  on  the  bottom  of  this-hole,  and  it  was  finally 
determined  to  get  a  diving  apparatus  and  prospect  the  dirt  at 
the  bottom.  A  diving  suit  of  guttapercha,  completely  envelop- 
ing the  wearer,  with  huge  round  glass  eye-windows,  and  a  tube 
leading  up  from  the  head  to  let  in  the  air,  having  been  pro- 
cured, one  day  one  of  the  partners  went  down  to  bring  up  some 
of  the  dirt  at  the  bottom  of  this  deep  hole,  to  see  what  was  in 
it.  Wilse  sat  on  the  bank  holding  the  signal-string  leading 

down  to  the  diver.     While  thus  occupied  a  lot  of  Indians,  men. 
15 


226  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

women  and  children,  came  along.  Thinking  Wilse  was  fish- 
ing, and  taking  great  interest  in  everything  having  little  work 
about  it,  they,  too,  sat  down  to  look  on  and  see  if  he  would 
catch  any  fish.  After  awhile  a  jerk  was  felt  on  the  signal- 
string.  One  of  the  bucks  who  could  talk  a  little  English  re- 
marked :  "  Heap  big  bite ;  heap  catch  em  big  fish  ! "  Wilse 
nodded,  and  began  to  pull  up.  The  Indians  were  all  eyes  and 
mouth  in  expectancy.  But  when  the  great,  big,  slick,  black, 
devil-looking  sort  of  a  thing  shot  out  of  the  water,  with  its 
great,  round,  glaring  glass  eyes,  as  big  as  saucers,  words  fail. 
A  scream  of  terror,  a  yell  of  horror,  and  the  Indian  outfit  dis- 
appeared as  suddenly  and  mysteriously  as  though  a  ton  of 
nitro-glycerine  had  burst  in  their  midst  and  annihilated  them. 
No  Indian  was  ever  after  seen  around  that  camp.  One  sight 
of  the  water-devil  was  enough." 

It  is  written  that  in  the  early  services  of  George  Washington 
an  Indian  exhausted  his  ammunition  in  firing  at  him,  but  was 
unable  to  hit  his  mark.  That  afterward  the  Indian  told  the 
illustrious  George  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  reserved  him  for 
some  special  purpose,  for  some  great  good ;  that  he  w?,s  not  to 
be  killed  by  a  bullet.  We  are  safe  in  surmising  that  the  gen- 
erous Potts  in  surviving  those  two  remarkable  adventures 
related  by  his  biogragher,  was  reserved  for  much  good  to  his 
fellow  man,  and  in  Mr.  Potts,  as  well  as  in  the  immortal 
Washington,  the  same  has  been  verified.  We  infer  that  in 
thankfulness  to  an  eves  protecting  Providence  in  saving  him 
from  such  dire  danger  the  subject  of  the  above  sketch  has 
almost  devoted  his  life  to  the  service  of  suffering  humanity. 
His  generosity  is  without  limit.  The  Creator  never  made  but 
one  A.  W.  Potts. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  227 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

More  .filibusters — The  Expedition  of  Admiral  Zerrnau  to  Lower  Califor- 
nia— "  The  Stern  Admiral  "  —Gen.  Blancarte  Traps  and  Sends  the 
Party  as  Prisoners  to  Mexico— Bob  Baldwin — John  Cullen — Smith 
and  His  Bloody  Record — J-olm  Temple  and  the  Plan  to  Rob  Him — 
His  Vast  Wealth— End  of  Smith. 


chronicler  of  the  salient  features  of  pioneer  times 
thought  he  had  disposed  of  all  the  filibustering  expe- 
ditions that  had  in  any  degree  been  connected  with 
our  angel  history.  .But  alas  !  for  human  calculations  ;  he  had 
reckoned  without  his  host.  After  having  disposed  of  the 
Flores  expedition,  the  "twin  republics"  (our  nearest  neighbors 
and  kindred),  the  unfortunate  Gaston  de  Raousset  and  the  ill- 
fated  Crabbe,  all  of  which  required  two  chapters  of  truthful 
history,  he  congratulated  himself  and  the  reader  on  having 
reached  the  last  of  the  filibustering  angels,  when  lo  !  the  expe- 
dition of  Admiral  Zerman  looms  up  and  illumines  his  memory. 
The  kind  of  an  Admiral  Zerman  wa"s  this  historian  will  not 
vouch  for,  only  that  he  was  a  Mexican  Admiral,  of  Mexican 
fame,  if  not  Mexican  name,  and  as  the  unnautical  editor  of  El 
Clamor  Publico,  in  the  times  of  the  Crimean  war,  said  of  Rear- 
Admiral  Bruce,  so  the  writer  declares  of  Zerman,  that  he  was 
a  "  stern  Admiral,"  for  the  reason  that  in  point  of  achievement 
Zerman  was  certainly  &  long  ways  "astern"  of  any  Admiral 
who  appears  on  the  pages  of  history.  The  only  connection 
Zerman' s  expedition  had  with  Los  Angeles  was  that  it  carried 
away  three  of  our  most  esteemed  angels,  the  first  a  gentleman, 
one  of  two  brothers,  Doctor  and  John  Cullen.  The  Doctor  was 


228  REMINISCENCES   OF    A   RANGER. 

the  pioneer  in  the  wool  trade  of  Los  Angeles  county,  and  John, 
a  noble  fellow,  opened  the  first  grocery  and  provision  store  in 
this  City  of  Angels.  His  specialty  was  not  a  success,  as  our 
angels  then,  as  now,  had  human  appetites,  and  in  addition  to 
their  fondness  for  Chile  peppers,  partook  largely  of  imported 
articles  in  the  provision  line,  so  poor  John  fell  a  victim  to  mis- 
placed confidence  and  noble  generosity,  and  got  "busted"  in 
business.  That  is  to  say,  he  believed  in  angel  honesty,  and 
gave  credit  to  angels  "  to  the  manor  born,"  as  likewise  to  the 
gringo,  and  was  thereby  driven  by  a  cruel  destiny  to  close 
business,  and  cast  his  fortunes  into  the  maelstrom  of  manifest 
destiny,  and  like  thousands  of  noble  spirits  of  the  time,  was 
swallowed  up  in  its  remorseless  vortex.  The  next  was  young 
Bob  Baldwin,  a  true  son  of  an  honorable  ancestry  ;  that  is  to 
say,  Bob  belonged  to  one  of  the  "first  families  of  Virginia," 
and  was  a  runaway  from  the  University  of  that  old  State. 
When  here  Bob  was  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  was  a 
firm  believer  not  only  in  manifest  destiny,  but  in  his  own  star, 
believing  that  it  was  his  peculiar  destiny  to  become  eventually, 
by  some  hook  or  crook,  the  ruler  of  Mexico.  Poor  Bob  !  what 
has  become  of  him  ?  I  saw  him  at  Vera  Cruz  in  1859  as  a 
Lieutenant  of  artillery  under  Juarez,  when  that  great  defender 
of  Mexican  national  integrity  was  besieged  by  Miramon.  Bob 
had  then  been  three  years  in  the  service,  and  had  risen  from 
the  ranks,  where  he  entered  upon  his  release  from  his  Mexican 
prison.  He  said  when  he  reached  a  captaincy  he  would  feel 
himself  on  the  highway  to  the  goal  of  his  destiny.  Poor  Bob  ! 
I  fear  he  never  reached  it.  The  third  angel  who-  went  away 
with  Zerman  was  Smith,  and  to  distinguish  Smith  from  all 
other  angel  Smiths,  I  will  here  assert  that  Smith  was  an.  angel 
blacksmith,  and  worked  for  John  G-oller  and  Jim  Baldwin,  on 
Los  Angeles  street,  and  was  a  very  peculiar  angel,  and  went 
filibustering  just  because  it  was  born  in  him.  Smith  was  a 
rover,  out  and  out.  Having  met  him  in  1859,  in  Minatitlan, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  229 

on  the  Coazacualcos  River,  the  dividing  line  between  Vera  Cruz 
and  Tabasco,  and  having  known  him  here  in  Los  Angeles,  I 
gained  his  confidence,  and  not  only  obtained  the  history  of  the 
Zerman  expedition,  but  his  own  private  experience  and  exploits 
in  California  and  elsewhere.  He  was  the  greatest  rascal  I  ever 
knew,  and  as  he  told  me  so  many  peculiar  circumstances  con- 
nected with  his  own  fortunes,  after  having  told  of  the  Zerman 
expedition  I  will  relate  a  few  of  them — only  a  few  of  the  least 
bloody  ones. 

In  October,  1855,  the  brig  Archibald  Grade  sailed  out  of 
the  Golden  Gate,  carrying  Zerman  and  his  foolish  followers,  to 
the  number  of  about  one  hundred,  bound  for  La  Paz,  which 
proved  to  be  anything  but  a  haven  of  "peace"  to  the  great 
stern  Admiral  and  his  luckless  expeditionists.  Zerman  claimed 
to  have  a  commission  from  some  high  Mexican  authority  to 
rule  Lower  California,  and  on  landing  at  La  Paz  presented 
his  authority,  sealed  with  the  great  seal  bearing  the  sym- 
bolical nopal  and  Mexican  reptile,  to  old  General  Blancarte, 
who  ruled  with  a  rawhide  and  laid  the  said  rawhide  on  hard 
and  heavy  on  all  occasions.  I  say  when  Zerman  presented  his 
patent  of  authority  and  told  Blancarte  to  get  out,  Blancarte 
called  a  file  of  ragged  ruffians  who  collared  Zerman,  and  Blan- 
carte told  Zerman  to  get  in,  and  he  was  accordingly  tumbled 
neck  and  heels  into  the  La  Paz  lock-up,  where  he  signed  an 
order  for  his  followers  to  land  without  arms  and  form  in  front 
of  the  Quartel  General,  which  being  in  due  form  accomplished, 
old  Blancarte  had  the  whole  batch  of  fools  securely  ironed 
and  sent  in  to  keep  company  with  their  stern  leader.  The 
upshot  of  all  this  was  that  the  whole  party  were  finally  shipped 
across  the  gulf  to  San  Bias,  and  compelled  to  foot  it  all  the 
way  to  the  City  of  Mexico,  each  patriot  carrying  a  chain 
fastened  to  his  ankle  and  conveniently  thrown  over  his  shoulder 
by  way  of  ornament.  Smith,  who  was  refractory  to  the  utmost 
degree,  was  specially  honored  with  a  pair  of  the  aforesaid 


230  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

chains,  one  on  each  leg,  and  fastened  together  in  the  middle. 
They  were  imprisoned  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  and  kindly 
treated,  long  enough  to  enable  the  proper  authorities  to  inquire 
the  reason  of  their  foolishness,  when  they  were  released,  the 
most  of  them  finding  employment,  those  who  were  mechanics, 
among  whom  was  our  angelic  Smith,  being  placed  in  the  gov- 
ernment shops  and  foundries.  Some  took  to  the  army,  like 
poor  Bob,  others,  following  the  bent  of  their  inclinations,  went 
to  running  their  faces  and  playing  monte,  as  had  been  their 
wont  in  this  land  of  gold. 

And  so  ended  the  ambitious  designs  of  the  stern  Admiral  on 
our  poor  neighbors  of  Lower  California,  whose  poverty  alone 
should  have  been  a  sufficient  safeguard  against  the  cupidity  of 
the  adventurous  knights  of  manifest  destiny.  May  they  ever 
rest  in  their  poverty  alone  is  the  wish  of  this  writer  of 
reminiscences. 

Smith  was  a  Maine  man.  I  might  have  said  "  State  of 
Maine,"  but  why  people  should  say  State  of  Maine  any  more 
than  they  would  say  State  of  California,  State  of  Kentucky, 
or  State  of  Missouri,  I  could  never  understand ;  but  hereafter, 
as  now,  I  will  simply  say  Maine,  just  as  I  would  say  California, 
always  leaving  out  "the  State  of"  as  three  words  too  many  to- 
express  the  same  meaning. 

Smith  was  a  natural  born  cut-throat,  but  otherwise  honest, 
save  in  one  or  two  particulars,  which  manifestly,  and  on  all 
occasions  cropped  out.  He  left  Maine  suddenly,  between  two 
days,  and  left  blood  behind  him.  That  is  to  say,  some  old 
man  refused  to  permit  Smith  to  wed  his  daughter.  Smith  got 
mad  and  killed  the  old  man,  and  then  left  his  country  for  his 
country's  good.  He  got  on  board  a  lumber  vessel  about  to 
clear  for  California,  in  1849,  and,  concealing  himself,  until  the 
vessel  was  three  days  at  sea,  made  his  appeal  ance  and  begged 
to  be  permitted  to  work  his  passage  to  the  golden  land.  The 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  231 

murder  not  having  been  heard  of  on  board,  Smith  was  quietly 
and  willingly  disposed  of  in  the  forecastle. 

As  a  sailor,  however,  Smith  was  a  failure.  He  was  insubor- 
dinate, and  in  constant  broils,  and  while  rounding  Cape  Horn 
knifed  the  second  mate.  As  a  consequence  he  made  the 
remainder  of  the  voyage  to  Valparaiso  in  double  irons.  The 
vessel  dropped  anchor  in  that  great  Chilian  port  at  about  dark, 
and  about  midnight  Smith,  having  slipped  his  irons,  slipped 
over  the  bow  chains,  dropped  overboard,  and  swimming  to  the 
shore  boldly  struck  out  for  the  interior,  and  stood  not  on  the 
order  of  his  going  till  he  reached  Santiago,  the  capital,  where 
he  readily  found  employment  in  a  government  foundry.  Form- 
ing a  convenient  connexion  he  lived  happily  until,  coming  home 
one  evening,  he  caught  his  mistress  in  the  very  act  of 
criminal  infidelity.  In  a  twinkling  he  stopped  the  wind  of  the 
luckless  wight  who  had  violated  the  sanctity  of  his  garden  of 
Eden,  and  then  wrung  the  neck  of  the  frail  fair  one  as  he 
would  have  wrung  the  neck  of  a  Maine  goose,  and,  leaving  the 
two  lovers  to  sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking,  took  up 
his  line  of  march  for  Valparaiso,  only  killing  one  man  on  the 
road.  He  reached  the  port  just  in  time  to  smuggle  himself  on 
board  a  steamer  bound  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco. 

On  his  arrival  he  at  once  struck  out  for  the  mines,  and 
brought  up  at  Rough  and  Ready,  where  he  killed  a  gambler 
who  had  cheated  him,  before  he  had  been  there  a  week.  The 
fellow  beat  him  out  of  his  money  at  monte  at  a  gambling 
house.  Smith  waited  outside  until  the  game  closed,  and  when 
the  gambler  came  out  he  struck  him  on  the  head  with  a  stone 
and  killed  him  instantly.  He  said  thereafter  three  Mexican 
gamblers  beat  him  by  cheating,  and  he  waylaid  them  one  at  a 
time  and  killed  the  whole  trio.  In  the  last  he  was  discovered, 
fled,  and  was  pursued  from  camp  to  camp  with  "hue  and  cry," 
but  succeeded  in  reaching  San  Francisco  and  >  went  over  to 
Marin  island,  then  the  penitentiary,  where  he  found  refuge, 


232  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

obtaining  employ  as  a  guardsman.     Who  would  seek  for  a 
fugitive  from  justice  among  the  guards  of  the  State  prison  ? 

How  long  Smith  remained  in  the  employ  of  the  State  is  not 
necessary  to  inquire.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  in  1852  he  became 
a  first-class  angel,  remaining  here  about  two  and  a  half  years, 
and  went  away  with  Zerman.  At  Minatitlan  Smi.h  informed 
me  on  his  honor  that  he  had  never  killed  any  one  in  Los 
Angeles,  notwithstanding,  as  he  expressed  it,  he  had  "  put  the 
light  out  of  at  least  a  dozen  while  in  California.  However," 
said  he,  "I  once  went  for  old  Temple's  scalp,  and  but  for  an 
accident  would  have  raised  it,  and  made  my  pile  to  boot." 

This  is  the  way  it  was  :  Old  John  Temple  used  to  bleed  this 
county  at  the  rate  of  about  $100.000  a  year,  money  received 
from  his  immense  sales  of  cattle,  all  of  which  he  would  carry 
to  the  City  of  Mexico  for  investment.  Dave  Brown,  Smith 
and  another  prominent  person  determined  to  waylay  Temple 
on  his  way  to  San  Pedro,  murder  him  if  necessary,  but  without 
fail  to  secure  his  bags  of  gold.  Temple  would  start  in  the 
morning  about  sunrise,  and  the  arrangement  was  that  Smith, 
Brown  &  Co.  would  leave  town  during  the  night  and  lay  in 
wait  in  the  high  mustard  down  about  Florence,  stop  Temple 
and  rob  him,  convey  the  cash  to  the  river  bed  and  bury  it  in 
the  water  and  sand,  and  wait  and  take  their  chances.  For- 
tunately or  unfortunately,  as  the  reader  may  choose  to  regard 
it,  about  twilight  on  the  eve  of  the  contemplated  robbery,  Dave 
accidentally  let  his  revolver  go  off  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of 
the  Bella  Union  and  shot  himself  in  the  foot,  a  circumstance 
well  remembered  by  many  pioneers.  A  lucky  shot  for  old 
John  Temple,  surely. 

Temple  was  at  one  time  the  richest  man  in  Mexico.  He 
almost  owned  the  whole  Mexican  government;  foreclosed  a 
mortgage  on  the  Mint  at  the  City  of  Mexico,  and  coined  money 
on  his  own  account.  He  owned  four  hundred  miles  of  sea- 
coast  territory  above  and  below  Acapulco,  was  a  brother  of  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF  'A    RANGER.  233 

late  F.  P.  F.  Temple,  of  La  Puente,  and  was  the  cutest  monte 
dealer  that  ever  flipped  a  card  for  an  angel  to  bet  his  pile  on. 

I  will  now  go  back  to  Mexico  and  finish  up  Smith.  Our 
gentle  angels  finished  Brown  before  Smith  left,  as  will  be  here- 
after and  in  the  proper  place  fully  related.  When  the  Zerman 
prisoners  were  released  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  Smith,  who  was 
an  excellent  mechanic,  was  employed,  as  before  stated,  in  a 
government  foundry,  where  he  formed  the  acquaintance  of  an 
English  expert,  who  inducted  him  into  the  mysteries  of  coining 
money,  and  the  partners  were  soon  flush  and  bet  their  coin 
freely  at  the  monte  banks.  It  was  only  on  Sundays  and  saints' 
days,  however,  when  the  foundry  would  be  closed,  that  the 
twain  would  steal  in,  fire  up,  melt  their  metal  and  mould  a 
supply  of  dollars.  To  the  great  honor  of  the  saints,  Smith  and 
his  pard  had  plenty  of  time  in  which  to  ply  their  vocation, 
only  that  the  police  were  always  vigilant  to  see  that  a  proper 
respect  was  shown  each  particular  saint,  and  to  arrest  any  one 
who  would  profane  the  day  by  doing  work.  So  on  one  occasion 
the  police  discovered  and  arrested  the  two  worthies  who  were 
trying  to  turn  an  honest  dollar,  and  on  the  following  day  they 
were  roundly  fined  by  the  irate  alcalde,  who  honored  the  saints, 
one  and  all.  "Well,"  said  Smith,  with  a  grin,  '-'we  paid  our 
fines  out  of  the  money  we  had  struck  off  that  day,  and  had  a 
good  stake  to  run  on  for  a  month  or  two." 

Times  got  so  hot  for  Smith  at  the  capital  that  he  lit  out  for 
Vera  Cruz,  where  the  Mexican  detectives  shadowed  him.  So 
he  sailed  for  Minatitlan,  where  he  started  a  shop  and  did  work 
for  the  mahogany  cutters,  but  kept  an  eye  open  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  "shove  the  queer."  One  evening  in  the  soft  tropical 
moonlight  in  front  of  Jim  Kawle's  hotel  in  Minatitlan,  while 
listening  to  Smith's  bloody  adventures  and  talking  about  Los 
Angeles,  the  Rangers,  and  of  familiar  persons,  a  portly  looking 
Mexican  walked  past  us  and  into  the  bar  room.  "  D — n  him," 
said  Smith,  "  I  know  him,  and  will  put  his  light  out  in  less 


234  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

than  a  week."  "  Who  is  he?"  said  I,  "  Why,"  said.he,  "  he's 
one  of  them  City  of  Mexico  detectives  and  he's  after  me.  I'll 
get  him."  Smith  did  get  him  in  less  than  a  week,  by  knocking 
him  on  the  head  and  throwing  him  in  the  river.  The  steamer 
from  Vera  Cruz  had  arrived  during  the  day  on  which  the 
portly  Mexican  had  come  as  a  passenger.  On  the  return  of  the 
steamer  to  Vera  Cruz  the  author  was  a  passenger,  and  saw  no 
more  of  our  Los  Angeles  journeyman  blacksmith  or  of  the 
mahogany  cutters  of  the  Coazacualcos.  But  in  January,  1862, 
I  met  Jim  Kawle  in  New  Orleans  and  talked  of  matters  in 
Minatitlan,  and  inquired  for  Smith.  "Ah,"  said  he,  "two 
days  after  you  left  he  killed  a  great  Mexican  detective,  was 
arrested,  taken  to  Vera  Cruz,  and  shot  at  the  castle  of 'San 
Juan  de  Uloa." 

The  reader  will  of  course  grieve  after  our  lost  angel,  and 
lament  our  bad  luck  in  losing  a  fellow  citizen  who,  had  he  been 
spared  us,  might  have  become  so  conspicuously  prominent. 
This  truthful  historian  begs  the  reader's  pardon  in  carrying  him 
so  far  away,  but  why  should  so  shining  an  example  as  the 
gentle  Smith  be  lost  to  posterity  ? 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  235 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Revolution — The  California  Spaniard — His  Patriotism — The  Great  Gringo- 
Nation — John  Raines— Guaclaloupe  Sanchez — Organization  of  Patriots 
— The  Plaza  Occupied  "  Viva  la  Rcpublica "  and  "  Death  to  the 
Gringos  " — General  Littleton  to  the  Rescue — Raid  on  the  Bella  Union 
Bar — Mayor  Hodges  in  the  Field — Firing  on  the  Plaza — The  Gringo 
Phalanx  Routed — The  Mayor  in  a  Bomb  Proof — The  Phalanx 
Triumphant — The  Killed  and  Wounded — Dona  Maria,  the  Lady 
Mayoress,  in  Peril — Littleton  Relieves  Her — The  Last  Outrage — The 
Angels  Redeemed— "  All  is  Well  that  Ends  Well." 


California  Spaniard  was  in  the  olden  time  an 
over  average  Christian  and  good  fellow,  full  of  jovial 
good  humor,  hospitable  even  to  a  fault,  patriotic, 
liberty -loving,  and  jealous  of  the  integrity  of  his  native  land  to 
such  degree  as  made  him  fly  to  arms  and  unfurl  to  the  balmy 
breeze  the  standard  of  revolution  on  the  slightest  possible  pre- 
text, and  sometimes  without  any  pretext  whatever.  In  a  past 
chapter  I  gave  a  truthful  account  of  the  sanguinary  rebellion  of 
the  angels  under  Castro  against  the  Mexican  satrap,  Michel- 
torena,  culminating  in  the  grand  battle  of  Providencia  and  the 
improvident  slaughter  of  that  patriotic  Mexican  mule,  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Mexican  tyrant  from  the  sacred  soil  of  California 
and  the  elevation  of  Don  Pio  Pico  as  the  last  of  the  domineering 
Dons,  to  be  soon  thereafter  succeeded  by  the  anti-revolutionary 
gringos.  In  those  glorious  old  times  before  the  coming  of  the 
gringo,  revolutions  were  of  ordinary  happening  and  generally 
harmless.  The  soil  of  our  angel  land  is  fertile,  naturally  so. 
The  soil  of  this  beautiful  land  was  never  fertilized  to  any  great 
extent  by  the  blood  of  tyrants  and  their  minions,  slain  by  the 


236  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER 

irate  sons  of  the  soil  in  their  resistance  to  the  Mexican  oppres- 
sor. Ante-gringo  revolutions  in  California  were  as  frequent 
and  harmless  as  raids  on  hen-roosts  in  the  sunny  South  at  the 
present  writing.  Still  the  olden-time  Californian  could  no 
more  exist  without  his  periodical  revolution  than  he  could 
without  his  bull-fight,  his  game  of  montc,  his  horse-race,  or  his 
gallos  on  St.  John's  day.  The  gringo  nation  is  great,  the 
affirmative  of  which  this  military  scribe  is  free  to  maintain  on 
horseback  or  on  foot,  with  spear  or  pen,  because  he  belongs  to 
that  immaculate  race  himself ;  but  there  is  an  old  adage  which 
is  as  truthful  as  the  writer  hereof,  and  that  is,  that  "the 
gringo  spoils  all  other  peoples  with  whom  he  is  brought  in 
contact." 

The  noble  race  of  California  Spaniards  has  greatly  deterior- 
ated by  its  association  with  the  conquering  gringo.  The  truth 
is,  "  the  gringo  spoiled  him."  He  isn't  half  the  man  he  was  in 
the  days  of  revolutions  and  rawhides.  The  author  has  hereto- 
fore referred  to  the  Jack  Powers  revolution  in  Santa  Barbara, 
and  will  hereafter  relate  the  revolutionary  effort  of  Juan  Flores. 
But  this  most  truthful  chapter  will  be  devoted  to  John  Raine's 
revolution,  which  occurred  in  the  city  of  angels  in  December, 
1852.  Times  wer«  lively  ;  money  was  most  abundant ;  monte 
dealers  and  merchants  were  waxing  rich  ;  the  cattle  market 
was  buoyant.  Fandangos  and  fiddling  was  the  order  of  the 
day  ;  festivities  throughout  the  land  ran  high ;  everyone 
seemed  happy,  everybody  was  over-prosperous,  and  everyone 
ought  to  have  been  happy.  The  California  Spaniard  was  the 
most  prosperous  mortal  on  the  footstool,  and  should  have  been 
the  happiest.  He  had  everything  his  longing  heart  could 
crave,  except  his  revolution ;  that  was  his  dearest  and  most 
sacred  privilege,  and  the  only  one  the  generous  gringo  refused 
to  accord  him.  When  the  gringo  planted  his  liberty-pole  on 
Fort  Hill,  he  sealed  the  doom  of  revolution  in  California.  Still 
the  noble  Dons  pined  for  a  revolution,  as  the  Jews  hungered 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  237 

for  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt.  Guadaloupe  Sanchez,  with  a  half- 
dozen  hot-headed  followers,  raised  the  standard  of  liberty 
one  beautiful  summer's  night  in  '52,  occupied  the  plaza,  fired 
off  their  revolvers,  gave  the  grito  de  libertad  and  muere 
los  gringos,  got  gloriously  and  patriotically  drunk,  trailed 
their  banner  in  the  dust,  and  so  ended  that  revolution.  John 
Raines  was  an  untamed  mustang,  full  of  mischief,  and  up  to 
all  kinds  of  deviltry.  The  angel  city  was  full  of  idle,  wild, 
harem-scarem  fellows,  of  the  vagabond  persuasion,  who  did 
little  else  than  play  at  billiards,  buck  at  monte,  kill  time  and 
have  a  good  time  generally.  No  better  material  could  have 
been  found  anywhere,  and  John  concluded  to  edify  the  longing 
Spaniard  with  a  revolution  as  would  be  a  revolution. 

So  the  bold  leader  put  himself  about  organizing.  Two 
weeks  were  thus  occupied.  Two  hundred  men  were  enrolled. 
The  utmost  secrecy  was  observed  ;  not  a  soul  but  the  initiated 
knew  aught  of  the  plot.  Hodges  was  Mayor.  The  eventful 
night  arrived  as  they  always  do.  At  midnight  the  revolution 
broke  forth  in  all  its  fury.  The  plaza  was  occupied,  and  "Viva 
la  Eepublica  y  muere  los  gringos"  burst  forth  on  the  midnight 
air,  rekindling  the  dormant  fire  that  slumbered  in  the 
patriotic  bosom  of  the  slumbering  Dons,  and  carrying  dismay 
to  the  uninitiated  and  surprised  Gringo  awakened  from  his 
sleep  by  this  pandemonium  let  loose.  In  fifteen  minutes  fifty 
indomitable  gringos  under  Jim  Littleton  stood  in  defiant 
phalanx  in  front  of  the  Bella  Union,  determined  to  maintain 
gringo  supremacy,  even  if  they  sacrificed  the  last  bar-keeper 
and  bottle  in  all  angel-land.  A  detail  was  accordingly  made 
to  raid  the  Bella  Union  bar,  and  another  to  hunt  up  the  Mayor 
to  take  command  and  oppose  the  uprising.  In  due  time  both 
objects  were  accomplished,  and  wine  flowed  as  wine  had  never 
flowed  before,  and  whisky  was  free.  By  this  time  the  gringo 
lenient  was  awake;  the  clatter  "of  cavalry  resounded  on 
the  midnight  air  as  they  dashed  up  and  down  upper  Main 


238  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

street.  A  hurried  council  of  war  resulted  in  the.  conclusion 
that  the  cabildo  and  the  court  house  would  be  the  first  objects 
of  attack.  So  armed  gringos  were  hastily  thrown  into  those 
places.  The  jail  on  the  Hill  was  also  occupied.  Then  the 
Littleton  phalanx,  leaving  a  reserve  at  the  junction- of  Main 
and  Commercial,  with  a  picket  at  Commercial  and  Los  Angeles 
streets  moved  bravely  to  the  plaza,  the  Mayor  marching 
valiantly  at  the  head  of  the  column  ;  he  however  suggested 
that  Jim  Littleton  should  be  the  commander  in  action,  and 
should  be  entitled  to  all  the  honors  consequent  on  victory, 
while  he,  the  Mayor,  would  be  present  and  sanction  any  and 
all  measures  necessary  to  an  effectual  suppression  of  the  revolu- 
tion. Reaching  the  corner  of  the  plaza  where  the  Pico  House 
now  stands,  the  Littleton-Gringo-Phalanx  were  received  by  a 
scattering  fusilade  from  all  quarters  of  the  plaza,  with  the 
battle  cry  of  the  revolution:  u  Viva  Mexico  y  mueran  los 
gringos,"  and  a  stentorian  voice  roared  out  "  rodealos, 
rodealos,"  anda  "cavalleros!"  (surround  them!  surround  them  !) 
and  the  clatter  of  cavalry  was  heard  going  through  Nigger 
Alley  like  a  tornado,  which  causes  the  General  to  order  the 
phalanx  to  fall  back,  which  it  did  in  quick  time,  as  the  ques- 
tion was  which  would  reach  the  Baker  Block  corner,  first — the 
rebel  cavalry  or  the  gringo  phalanx.  Intermediate  between 
the  plaza  and  Arcadia  street,  stood  at  that  day  the  first  monu- 
ment of  gringo  enterprise,  a  brick  culvert,  which  ran  diagonally 
across  the  street  and  was  about  forty  feet  long,  four  feet  wide  at 
the  base,  and  forming  an  arch,  which  was  just  high  enough  to 
admit  a  person  in  a  low,  stooping  posture.  Now  that  old  cul- 
vert was  a  most  infernal  nuisance,  being  frequented  by  vagabond 
Indians  as  a  place  of  convenience,  which  rendered  the  interior 
thereof  unpleasantly  odorous.  General  Littleton,  finding  that 
the  cavalry  would  reach  the  objective  point  first,  came  to  a  sudden 
halt  at  the  culvert,  and  seizing  the  Mayor  by  the  arm,  said  : 
" Hodge,  it's  our  only  chance;  get  in.  quick;  we're  cut  off, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  239 

sure."  To  hesitate  was,  as  the  Mayor  thought,  certain  death, 
so  into  the  culvert  went  the  chief  gringo  of  this  semi-gringo 
city,  hearing  the  ^honors  of  the  great  gringo  nation  on  his  hroad 
back.  His  honor  was  safe,  and  the  phalanx,  dividing  itself, 
took  position  at  either  end  of  the  Mayor's  bomb-proof,  and 
opened  a  defiant  fire  on  the  exultant  rebels,  who  now  charged 
them  on  all  sides.  The  conflict  was  terrific  ;  the  din  of  battle 
was  fearful.  Above  all  could  be  heard  the  lion-like  roar  of 
Jim  Littleton  as  he  urged  the  phalanx  to  stand  their  ground 
and  "Remember  the  Alamo,"  and  let  the  last  man  die  rather 
than  yield.  The  Mayor  was  safe.  He  was  as  snug  as  a  bug 
in  a  rug,  and  never  a  word  did  speak,  until  an  immense  gringo 
cheer  announced  victory  to  the  phalanx,  and  a  few  scattering 
shots  gave  proof  that  the  rebels  had  been  repulsed.  Then  his 
honor  emerged  from  his  place  of  refuge  and  rejoined  the  victori- 
ous gringos  with  the  inquiry,  "  How  many  are  killed  ?  "  "Are 
we  all  right,  Jim  ?"  Then  the  commander  ordered  the  phalanx 
to  fall  back  on  the  reserve  at  Commercial  street — an  order  easier 
given  than  executed — as  the  wounded  were  so  numerous  that 
the  movement  was  consequently  slow  and  painful.  Several 
were  left  dead,  or  apparently  so,  at  the  culvert,  the  Mayor  sug- 
gesting that  "no  further  harm  could  befall  the  poor  fellows." 

Samuel  Arbuckle's  store  at  the  corner  of  Commercial  and 
Main  was  the  gringo  headquarters,  and  the  back  rooms  thereof 
were  converted  into  a  hospital,  whither  the  Mayor  was  con- 
ducted. On  entering  all  the  horrors  of  war  presented  itself 
to  his  terrified  gaze.  Surgeons  with  sleeves  tucked  up,  bloody 
bandages:  wounded  men,  groaning  in  agony,  lying  around 
everywhere,  while  every  minute  some  poor  fellow  would  be 
brought  in  by  his  comrades  in  a  desperate  condition.  The 
doctors  had  their  hands  full. 

Some  one  said  to  Doc.  Jones,  "The  Mayor  is  wounded;  why 
•don't  you  attend  to  him  ? "  upon  which  said  suggestion  two 
or  three  sympathetic  attendants  laid  hold  of  his  honor  with 


240  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

a  view  to  removing  his  coat  and  vest,  when  all  at  once  they 
hold  up  their  hands  to  the  light  and  commence  an  examination 
thereof,  with  exclamations  of  "  P-e-w  !  Great  eternal  polecat, 
where  has  he  been  ?  ISTo  blood  !  but  what  ? "  Then  "  the 
most  useful  man"  put  in,  "Why,  Hodge,  what -does  this 
mean?  It's  awful."  "It  is  that  infernal  culvert,"  responded 
his  honor.  "Them  d — d  injans;  I  always  wanted  the  Coun- 
cil to  abate  that  culvert  as  a  nuisance,  and  by  the  holy  poker, 
if  I  live,  and  if  we  savo  the  city,  I'll  bet  they  don't  use  that 
culvert  for  that  purpose  again.  But  it  was  a  fortunate  thing 
for  us  to-night,  sure."  Then  his  honor  bethought  himself  of 
Dona  Maria,  the  fair  and  frail  sharer  in  the  dignities  and 
profits  of  the  Mayoralty.  The  lady  Mayoress  was  in  imminent 
peril,  and  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels.  Dona 
Maria  dwelt  near  the  plaza  (at  present  a  fair  dame  of  Los 
Angeles  street),  and  she  must  be  rescued  at  all  hazards;  but 
who  would  take  the  risk — the  danger  was  great ;  yet  the 
attempt  must  be  made,  Littleton  called  for  volunteers,  and 
five  heroes  stepped  forth  from  the  phalanx  ready  to  immo- 
late themselves  on  the  altar  of  chivalry;  and  with  an  assuring 
word  to  his  honor,  the  brave  fellows,  with  Jim  at  their  head, 
set  forth  on  their  mission  of  gallantry.  They  were  gone  an 
hour,  during  which  time  desultory  firing,  cheers,  vivas  and 
carajos  were  heard  all  over  the  city,  and  the  Mayor  was  in 
awful  suspense  concerning  the  lady  Mayoress.  Every  few 
minutes  some  bleeding  victim  of  the  revolution  would  be 
brought  in,  and  the  doctors  had  their  hands  fu,ll.  It  was  now 
near  daylight  and  at  last  Jim  Littleton  came  in  with  the  lady 
Mayoress,  who  was  received  with  every  demonstration  of 
delight  by  his  honor,  the  Mayor,  whose  first  inquiry  to  the 
weeping  lady  was,  "Ah,  Querida  mia,  they  have  hurt  you." 
whereupon  the  lady  turned  bitterly  upon  Jim  Littleton  with 
the  exclamation  of  "Ah  que  sin  verguenza/'  (You  shameless 
vagabond.)  Dona  Maria  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  fury  of  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  241 

revolution  and  the  Mayor  was  as  mad  as  a  hornet.  Daylight 
dispels  the  sombre  shadows  of  night.  The  orb  of  day  gilds 
the  Eastern  horizon.  The  verdants  hills  smile  in  beauty  when 
kissed  by  the  morning  sun.  Peace  reigns  supreme  in  the 
Angel  City.  The  night  of  disorder  is  succeeded  by  the  morn- 
ing tranquility.  The  trembling  sefiora  peeps  timidly  forth 
from  her  window  expecting  to  see  the  prickly  pear  flag  of  Aztec 
land  floating  from  every  adobe  Avail  in  the  redeemed  city,  but, 
alas  !  nothing  of  the  kind  is  to  be  seen.  Grave  Dons  and  fright- 
ened gringos  appear  on  the  streets  to  inquire  for  the  dead,  but 
no  dead  are  to  be  found,  unless,  perchance  an  over-patriotic 
gringo  was  found  dead  drunk.  No  blood  was  to  be  seen  any- 
where. Was  all  this  a  dream ;  certainly  there  was  no  reality 
in  it.  The  Mayor  went  to  the  culvert  and  found  no  blood, 
notwitstanding  when  he  retreated  from  that  glorious  battlefield 
•only  six  hours  ago  the  ground  was  covered  with  dead  heroes. 
Men  whom  he  had  seen  under  the  surgeon's  hands  in  the 
agonies  of  mortal  pain,  now  smilingly  greeted  him  with, 
"  Hello  !  Hodge,  old  boy,  how  goes  it  ?  "  Their  recovery  had 
been  miraculous.  His  honor  would  willingly  believe  it  all  to 
be  a  nightmare  only  for  the  queer  accident  that  had  happened 
to  Maria,  and  he  was  certain  there  was  no  nightmare  about  that. 

It  was  a  sell,  an  out  and  out  sell,  gotten  up  by  John 
Raines  and  Jim  Littleton  to  sell  the  town  generally,  to  sell 
the  Mayor  in  particular,  and  to  relieve  the  general  monotony 
of  the  California  Spaniard,  and  gladden  his  heart  with  a  first- 
class  revolution. 

Revolutions  are  not  revolutions  without  their  usual  concomi- 
tant of  outrages,  and  of  course  there  must  of  necessity  be 
some  kind  of  an  outrage  to  give  respectability  to  our  present 
one.  So  Jim  Littleton,  to  carry  out  the  simile,  had  perpetrated 
the  last  outrage  of  revolutionists  on  Dona  Maria,  the  lady 
Mayoress  of  the  City  of  Angels,  which  was  all  that  was  real  in 

the  whole  affair. 
16 


242  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Bull  Fights — Romance  of  Spanish-American  Conquest— Gran  Fund  on  de 
Toros — The  Gran  Toreador — Plaza  dc  Toros — The  Debut  of  Don 
Jesus — "  The  Bravest  Man  in  the  World  " — A  Furious  Bull — A  Des- 
perate Encounter — The  Lazadores,  Picadores  and  Banclerilleros — The 
Gran  Toreador  Gets  a  Raise— The  Battle  Over — The  Gringo's  Revenge. 

A,HIS  historical  Ranger  in  his  juvenile  days  and  before 
visiting  this  semi-Latin  land,  had  been  an  ardent  and 
enthusiastic  student  of  Spanish  history,  and  was  a 
great  admirer  of  the  chivalry  of  the  race,  the  high  tide  of  whose . 
civilization  had,  before  the  Mayflower  was  wedded  to  the  salt 
sea  wave,  penetrated  to  the  very  heart  of  what  is  now  the 
United  States;:,  of  the  marvelous  achievements  of  the  Great 
Conquistador  and  his  handful  of  followers,  whose  unparalleled 
audacity  led  them  into  the  very  jaws  of  a  powerful  and  cruel 
despotism,  there  to  assume  the  role  of  dictator,  was  so  wonder- 
ful that  to  my  mind  the  words  "  Spanish  Cavalier  "  meant  all 
that  was  brave,  enterprising  and  chivalrous;  of  the  deeds  of 
Vasco  Nunez,  Pizarro,  and  others  of  minor  note  in  the  sub- 
jugation to  the  dominion  of  the  cross,  the  vast  empires  of 
Darien  and  Peru  filled  my  mind  with  the  highest  possible 
opinion  of  the  descendants  of  those  mighty  adventurers;  while 
the  insane  wanderings  of  Ponce  de  Leon  and  ])e  So  to  seemed  to 
give  the  only  true  romantic  tinge  to  our  own  matter  of  fact 
conquistorial  history.  So  when  the  chronicler  made  his  advent 
into  this  old-time  Spanish  capital,  this  angel  city,  handed  over 
to  the  rule  of  the  Saxon,  he  was  prepared  to  admire  anything 
that  had  the  glare  and  glitter  of  Mexico  or  of  Spain,  as  well 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  243 

the  rodea,  the  annual  execution  of  that  ancient  rapscallion 
Judas  Iscariot,  the  cock-pulling  feats  on  St.  John's  Day,  the 
Maromas,  the  fandango,  the  sanguinary  encounters  between 
bulls  and  bears,  and  more  important  than  all,  the  bull  fights, 
wherein  man,  the  image  of  his  Creator,  boldly  enters  the 
gladiatorial  arena  to  meet  in  mortal  combat  the  noble  lord  of 
the  animal  kingdom,  the  untamed  bull.  Therefore,  soon  after 
my  induction  into  angel  society  I  was  raised  to  the  seventh 
heaven  of  delight  in  beholding  the  announcement  in  largely 
lettered  placards,  "Gran  Funcion  de  Toros,  el  Domingo 
proximo  a  las  tres  a  la  tarde;"  (grand  bull-fight  on  Sunday 
next  at  3  o'clock,)  with  a  list  of  the  renowned  Dons  who  would 
participate  on  that  important  occasion,  with  a  great  flourish 
about  a  very  brave  and  eminent  Don  bearing  the  name  of 
"Jesus,"  who  was  represented  to  be  the  most  intrepid  of  all 
the  toreadores  who  had  carved  their  names  on  the  temple  of 
fame  for  heroic  deeds  done  in  the  Plaza  de  toros  of  the  City  of 
Mexico.  This  important  announctment  was  made  about  mid- 
week, and  immediately  thereafter  active  operations  commenced 
and  a  great  fever  of  excitement  possessed  the  angel  mind, 
gringo  as  well  as  native.  Great  speculation  was  indulged  in 
as  to  who  the  mighty  hero  bearing  the  Holy  Karne  could  be, 
and  every  stranger  Don  felt  complimented  when  some  knowing 
one  would  suggest  the  possibility  of  his  being  the  "gran 
toreador"  from  "la  capital  de  Mexico."  On  Saturday  the 
arena  was  complete — a  fence  built  of  green  willow  posts  set 
in  the  ground  to  which  were  lashed,  with  raw -hide  thongs, 
stout  poles  forming  a  circle  about  forty  feet  in  diameter.  On 
one  side  elevated  seats  were  arranged,  one  above  the  other,  in 
theatrical  style,  fur  those  who  were  to  pay  ;  while  the  rabble 
had  the  privilege  of  peeping  through  the  poles  without  price. 
At  one  end  of  this  improvised  dress  circle,  a  canvas  enclosure 
was  made  for  the  accommodation  of  the  toro  and  the  toreador, 
the  lazadores,  the  banderilleros,  the  picadorcs,  and  the  master 


244  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

of  the  arena,  in  order  that  they  might  be  obscured  from  vulgar 
eyes  until  their  grand  entrance  into  the  arena  of  blood  and 
battle.  In  order  that  the  bull  and  bull-fighters  might  meet  as 
utter  strangers,  and  on  the  theory  that  familiarity  breeds  con- 
tempt, a  rag  petition  divided  the  belligerents.  On  the  right 
flank  of  the  dress  circle  are  seated,  on  an  elevated  platform,  the 
musicians,  who  discourse  Mexican  national  airs,  while,  to  the 
great  disgust  of  the  grand  marshal,  the  gringos  possess  the 
poles  of  the  willow  fence,  smoke  their  cigars,  and  are  all  on 
the  tip-toe  of  excitement,  and  this  truthful  historian  is  carried 
back  in  imagination  to  the  geography  pictures  he  used  to  gaze 
at  with  such  reverential  awe  in  his  school-boy  days.  "  Now," 
thought  I,  "  we  are  to  behold  a  bull  fight  such  as  were  formerly 
seen  in  glorious  Madrid,"  and  my  excitement  knew  no  bounds. 
The  music  ceases,  and  the  herald  proclaims  the  grand  entry. 
The  canvas  door  is  thrown  open,  and  the  lazadores,  with  gilt 
and  glitter,  spangles  and  spatters,  lance  and  pennon,  mounted 
on  elegantly-caparisoned,  high-mettled  steeds,  enter,  followed  by 
the  picadores  a  pie,  and  the  banderilleros  and  the  matador,  all 
radiant  in  green  silk,  tinsel  and  stripes.  The  brilliant  outfit 
are  all,  in  glittering  array,  ranged  before  us,  save  and  except 
the  "gran  toreador"  and  the  toro,  which  in  rude  Saxon  means 
Jesus  and  the  bull.  The  music  bursts  forth  in  patriotic  and 
warlike  strains,  the  sefioritas  wave  their  handkerchiefs,  and  the 
rabble  cry  "viva!"  Again  the  herald  waves  his  baton  of 
office,  the  music  stops,  the  sefioritas  cease  from  waving, 
the  rabble  discontinue  their  vivas,  and  the  gringos  maintain 
their  grave  demeanor,  smoke  away,  and  whittle  on  the  green 
poles.  The  herald  now  proclaims  that  "  the  greatest,  most  re- 
nowned and  famous  bull  fighter,  either  living  or  dead,  the  hero 
of  more  than  a  thousand  bloody  fights,  the  champion  of  the 
world,  will  now  make  his  entrance  before  this  august  assem- 
blage." Two  ushers  now  divide  the  canvas  door,  and  the  music 
don't  play  "Hark!  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes,"  but  it  plays 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  245 

something  of  equal  grandeur,  and  the  "gran  toreador,"  as 
though  disdaining  the  earth  upon  which  he  trod,  enters  the 
arena,  faces  toward  the  sefioritas,  places  his  right  hand  upon 
his  heart,  makes  a  profound  sala'am,  and  is  greeted  with  a 
shqwer  of  bouquets.  The' gentlemen  ushers  respectfully  pick 
them  up,  bow  to  the  sefioritas,  bend  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the 
knee  to  Don  Jesus,  who  haughtily  makes  the  about  face,  bows 
patronizingly  to  the  gringos  and  the  peons  and  pelados,  and 
speaks:  "  Soy  valiente"  (I  am  very  brave);  "  tengo  mucho 
honor"  (I  have  a  great  deal  of  honor)  ;  aque  es  de  vivir  sin 
honor  ?  "  (why  should  one  live  without  honor  ?)  ;  a  es  mejor  a 
morir  valiente  que  vivir  sin  honor"  (it  is  far  better  to  die  game 
than  to  live  with  a  taint  upon  one's  honor).  "I  am  the 
bravest  man  in  the  world,  of  which  you  shall  have  due  proof 
when  you  see  me  encounter  the  most  ferocious  bull  that  could 
be  found  on  the  thousand  miles'  expanse  of  California  plain.  I 
am  ready  to  conquer  or  die,"  and  Don  Jesus  bowed  to  the 
herald. 

The  two  ushers  now  very  carefully  approach  the  bovine  cor- 
ner, and  remove  a  barricade  of  rawhide  ropes,  the  music  again 
bursts  forth  in  martial  strains,  and  the  ferocious  bull  of  the 
California  plains  makes  his  debut,  not  with  wild  and  flashing 
eyes,  distended  nostrils,  tossing  head  and  high-waving  tail,  but 
as  gentle-looking,  mild-visaged  an  old  ox  as  ever  tugged  at  a 
creaking  Mexican  cart,  with  eyes  as  honest  and  sleepy  as  a 
crocodile's,  with  head  neither  erect  nor  depressed,  tail  dangling 
in  an  old-fashioned,  ox-like  way  between  his  legs,  and  still 
worse  than  all,  the  poor  old  fellow's  head  bore  signs  of  the 
recent  lashings  of  a  Mexican  yoke,  and  his  honest  old  horns 
were  sawed  off  so  near  his  head  that  the  blood  slowly  oozed  and 
trickled  in  honest  indignation  at  the  outrage.  When  this 
tough  veteran  entered  the  arena  the  music  played,  the  "Pon- 
chada,"  the  peons  and  the  pelados  yelled,  the  gringos  grinned, 
and  the  sefioritas  looked  disappointed.  Don  Jesus,  to  prove 


246  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

bis  valor,  rushed  in  front  of  his  disarmed  adversary,  and  wav- 
ing a  red  flag  in  his  face,  said  tauntingly,  "  Ha,  Toro  ! "  which 
didn't  disturb  the  ox  in  the  least.  Then  a  banderillero 
manoeuvred  around,  and  flung  a  rosette  dart,  called  a  ban- 
derilla,  into  the  old  gent's  flank,  which  didn't  seem  to  discomfit 
him,  only  being  a  gentle  reminder  of  his  old  acquaintance 'the 
goad.  Another  bariderilla  strikes  him  in  the  other  flank,  and 
one  in  the  rump,  and  the  old  fellow  looks  around  innocently, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "Weil,  did  I  ever?"  all  of  which  time 
"  the  bravest  man  in  the  world"  flaunts  his  red  flag  in  front  of 
the  bull  and  yells  "  Toro  ! "  A  lazador  now  makes  a  dash  at 
the  bull,  seizes  him  by  the  tail  and  sloughs  him  around,  and  a 
banderilla  is  stuck  into  him,  to  which  is  attached  a  string  of 
firecrackers,  and  a  brave  picador  valorously  fires  them,  and 
another  picador  bounces  on  his  back,  a^d  Don  Jesus  kicks  him 
on  the  nose,  at  which  act  of  daring  the  peons  and  pelados 
"  viva ! "  and  the  poor  old  ox  loses  his  patience  and  makes  a 
rush  at  "the  bravest  man,"  who  runs  and  climbs  over  the 
fence,  and  a  lazador  has  the  old  boy  by  the  hind  leg  with  his 
lazo,  and  another  by  the  fore  foot,  and  before  the  old  ox  can 
tell  what  he  is  about  they  stretch  him  roughly  upon  his  back, 
and  the  banderilleros  fill  his  body  with  rosette  darts  and  fire- 
crackers, and  the  old  fellow  is  permitted  to  regain  his  feet,  by 
which  time  he  is  again  confronted  by  the  "bravest  man"  with 
his  red  flag,  and  the  banderilleros  cover  his  flank  and  rear  and 
ply  their  cruel  darts  and  crackers,  and  the  bull  makes  another 
dash  at  Don  Jesus,  who  this  time  nimbly  dodges  the  bull  and 
springs  upon  his  back,  at  which  the  sefioritas  scream  with 
delight,  the  peons  and  pelados  yell  themselves  hoarse,  the 
drums  roll  and  rattle,  the  fife  screams,  the  horns  toot,  and  the 
flute  and  flageolette  give  forth  sweet  sounds  of  victory;  the  old 
ox  strikes  a  ga'lop,  and  the  "bravest  man"  turns  a  back 
somersault  and  gracefully  alights  on  his  feet,  and  again  con- 
fronts his  bovine  foe. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  247 

.  By  this  time  the  gringo  part  of  the  audience  have  become 
friendly  to  the  bull,  so  called,  and  somewhat  disgusted  at  the 
cruelty  of  his  tormentors,  and  in  English  they  discussed  the 
situation  and  conclude,  at  the  first  favorable  opportunity,  to 
make  a  diversion  in  favor  of  the  bull.  Of  course  what  they 
said  and  proposed  to  do  was  wholly  unknown  to  the  Dons  in 
the  arena,  who  did  not  understand  English.  So  the  next  time 
the  honest  and  tormented  old  ox  made  a  well-directed  charge 
on  the  "bravest  man"  and  he  attempted  to  climb  over  the 
fence,  Cy  Lyon,  who  was  seated  thereon,  gave  the  august,  the 
disdainful,  the  proud,  the  champion  toreador,  a  well-directed 
push  with  his  foot,  which  he  planted  solid  in  the  pit  of  Don 
Jesus'  stomach,  which  landed  him  fair  and  square  on  the  gory 
horns  of  the  bovine  hero,  whose  eyes  now  flashed  livid  fire  of 
rage,  his  nostrils  dilated,  emitting  foam  and  blood,  his  tail 
erect  and  waving,  head  so  low  that  his  nose  touched  the 
ground,  he  looked  the  very  incarnation  of  victory,  and  seemed 
to  throw  all  of  his  immense  strength  into  one  grand,' revengeful 
toss  of  the  head,  and  we  all  thought  for  sure  that  the  grand 
toreador  was  imitating  the  cow  that  jumped  over  the  moon. 
It  was  certainly  the  biggest  raise  that  Mexican  ever  got  in  his 
life.  The  going  up  was  awful,  but  the  coming  down !  well, 
Don  Jesus,  the  champion  bullfighter  from  "  La  Capital  de 
Mexico/'  was  a  month  recovering  from  the  immensity  of  the 
shock.  It  was  said  he  suffered  great  damage,  and  it  was  over 
a  month  before  he  could  resume  his  duties  of  stewing  carne, 
making  hash  and  slinging  pots,  for  such  was  his  every-day  avoca- 
tion, oh !  reader !  and  when  this  painted  and  bespangled  hero, 
this  champion  bull-fighter  from  the  City  of  Mexico,  this  gran 
toreador,  was  divested  of  his  tinsel  and  stripes,  his  spangles  and 
spatters,  his  red  embroidered  jacket,  his  green  breeches  and  his 
red  hose,  his  jaunty  cap,  and  his  gorgeous  parti-colored  sash, 
when  his  face  was  washed  of  the  dust  of  the  bull-pen,  of  the 
blood  that  freely  flowed  from  his  eyes,  nose  and  ears,  and  the 


248  KEAI1NI8CENCES    OF    A    BANGER. 

thick  coating  of  paint,  this  ass  in  lion's  disguise  turned  out  to 
be  John  O.  Wheeler's  cook.  When  poor  Jesus  went  up  the 
Lazadores  made  a  rush  for  the  infuriated  ox,  who  was  now  a 
formidable  monster  and  eyed  Jesus  as  he  went  up  and  coolly 
waited  for  him  to  come  down,  and  in  a  moment  they  had  him 
on  the  ground  as  harmless  as  a  lamb,  and  so  ended  the  "gran 
funcion  de  toros;"  and  so  ended  my  romantic  idea  of  a  Spanish 
bull-fight,  and  so  ended  the  glorious  career  of  Don  Jesus,  the 
gran  toreador  in  the  bull-pens  of  this  ancient  angel  capital, 
and  so  endeth  this  story.  It  is  only  fair  to  say,  however,  that 
none  of  the  respectable  Spanish  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Los 
Angeles  patronized  the  bull-fights. 

The  gringos  were  sold,  badly  sold,  beaten.  A  gringo  is 
willing  to  beat  but  is  always  averse  to  being  beaten,  and  the 
gringos  determined  to  avenge  themselves  upon  the  Dons  for 
having  so  disappointed  them  in  their  anticipations  of  a  grand 
bull-fight,  and  soon  the  opportunity  offered. 

We  had  ti  humorous  genius  among  us,  Frank  Ball,  a  great 
practical  joker,  who  determined  to  sell  the  Dons  in  revenge 
for  their  imposition  in  the -bull-fight.  Frank  accordingly 
bought  an  old  and  used  up  mustang,  had  him.  elaborately 
blanketed  and  stabled  at  Pete  Rohrer's,  where  Ferguson  & 
Rose's  stables  now  are,  and  advertised  in  English  and  Spanish, 
in  all  the  newspapers  and  by  great  posters,  that  on  a  certain 
day  he  would  start  from  San  Pedro  and  make  a  voyage  to 
Santa  Catalina  and  back,  on  horseback;  that  he  would  ride 
the  great  swimming  horse  Hippopotamus,  a  horse  of  a  peculiar 
Kanaka  breed  who  had  swam  all  the  way  from  the  Sandwich 
Islands  to  San  Francisco.  That  for  the  period  of  ten  days 
prior  to  this  great  marine-equine  performance,  the  great  swim- 
ming horse  could  be  seen  in  his  stall  and  examined,  in  order 
that  people  might  satisfy  themselves  that  in  appearance  Hippo- 
potamus was  the  same  as  any  other  horse.  Admission,  50  cents; 
ladies,half  price;  children  free.  The  Star,  and  Wheeler's  paper 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  249 

puffed  Hippopotamus  and  lauded  Frank  Ball's  great  enterprise 
in  having  procured  this  great  amphibious  curiosity  for  public 
inspection  and  edification.  The  consequence  of  all  this  was 
that  there  was  a  great  run  on  Hippopotamus,  and  four-bit 
pieces  fell  in  plentiful  profusion  into  Frank's  coffers.  The 
Dons  came  in  crowds  to  see  this  marine  monster.  Vaqueros 
from  the  country  examined  him,  the  patrons  of  the  bull-pen 
planked  down  their  coin,  and  the  sell  was  a  financial  success. 
But  how  was  Ball  to  get  out  of  his  promise  of  making  his 
voyage  to  Santa  Catalina,  thirty  miles  and  back?  He  got  out 
of  it  by  having  some  one  abduct  Hippopotamus  on  the  night 
previous  to  the  great  swimming  performance,  made  a  great  fuss 
about  it,  pocketed  the  coin  and  avenged  the  gringos  for  having 
been  so  sold  on  the  bull  fisht. 


250  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Bears  and  Bear  Stories— Lassoing  the  Grizzly — Jim  Bogg's  Bear  Fight- 
Col.  Wm.  Butts— "The  Southern  California!!  "—Butts  and  Wheeler- 
Bulls'  Encounter  With  a  Grizzly — Andy  Sublette  and  the  Bear — 
"  Old  '  Buck  " — Andy's  Last  Fight— Victory  and  Death— Andy's 
Funeral — Old  Buck  Dies  from  Grief— Queer  Freak  of  an  Old  Grizzly 
— Fred  Staccr's  Adventure — Bill  Bradshaw  and  Nelse  Williamson — A 
Bad  Wound. 


THE  time  of  which  I  write,  early  in  the  '5Qs,  grizzly 
bears  were  more  plentiful  in  Southern  California  than 
pigs  ;  they  were,  in  fact,  so  numerous  in  certain  locali- 
ties, as  Topango  Malibu,  La  Laguna  de  Chico,  Lopez  and 
other  places,  as  to  make  the  rearing  of  cattle  utterly  impossible. 
Those  ferocious  brutes  were  the  terror  of  the  aboriginal  tribes, 
and  dreaded  by  the  California  Spaniard,  whose  only  weapon  of 
offensive  warfare  against  them  was  the  riata  and  lance,  more 
commonly  called  in  gringo  parlance  the  lazo. 
•  When  burly  bruin,  in  quest  of  came,  would  boldly  emerge 
from  his  lair  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Sierra  and  make  his  ap- 
pearance on  the  plain,  he  ran  nine  chances  out  of  ten  of  losing 
his  scalp.  When  beset  by  three  or  four  lazadores,  he  was  most 
generally  overpowered  and  spitted,  and  this  is  the  way  in 
which  that  most  wonderful  feat,  lassoing  a  grizzly,  was  per- 
formed by  those  most  formidable  men  on  horseback,  whose 
likes  will  never  more  be  known — the  California  ranchero. 
When  seen  on  the  open  plain,  a  party  of  (he  most  intrepid, 
cool-headed,  well-mounted  and  expert  lazadores  surround  him. 
Bruin,  finding  himself 'corraled,  seats  himself  upright  on  his 
haunches,  and  takes  the  defensive  position  of  the  pugilist.  A 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  251 

lazador  now  approaches  him  and  swings  his  riata.  There  must 
be  no  mistake  about  it ;  the  bear  must  be  caught  by  one  of  his 
fore  feet.  That  is  the  first  thing  to  be  done.  Bear  in  mind, 
reader,  the  monster  may  be  of  2000  pounds  weight,  and  if 
caught  around  the  body  or  neck,  he  takes  hold  of  that  riata 
and  draws  in  the  horse  and  rider  hand  over  hand,  as  easily  as  a 
fisherman  would  draw  in  a  catfish.  The  coil  of  the  lazo 
describes  a  rapid  circle,  whizz  !  whirr  !  Bruin's  eyes  wall  from 
side  to  side  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  know  where  the  blow  is 
about  to  fall,  and  his  two  immense  arms  gyrate  wildly,  as 
though  he  intended  to  make  the  right,  left,  front  and  rear 
parry  at  one  and  the  same  time  and  motion.  Whizz,  whirr, 
whirr,  whip,  goes  the  riata,  and  lord  grizzly  is  caught  by  the 
fore  paw.  In  the  twinkling  of  'an  eye,  whhz,  whirr,  whip,  goes 
another  riata,  and  the  astonished  monster  is  caught  by  the 
other  fore  foot.  He  now  angrily,  and  with  gnashing  teeth  and 
terrific  growls,  stands  erect,  and  waltzes  around  like  a  grena- 
dier ;  but  the  next  thing  he  knows,  ivhizz,  whirr,  whirr,  ivhip, 
and  a  riata  tightens  on  his  hind  foot,  and  before  he  can  enter 
his  growling  protest  he  is  caught  by  his  other  hind  foot,  and  is 
tripped  up  and  falls  heavily  upon  his  back,  where  he  struggles 
desperately  for  life  ;  but  four  well-trained  horses,  and  four  cool- 
headed,  fearless  riders,  with  their  terrible  riatas  are  too  much 
for  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  monster,  with  groans  and 
growls,  with  heaving  chest  and  dilating  eyes,  surrenders  at 
discretion  and  lies  on  his  back  as  helpless  as  a  child.  Where- 
upon he  is  approached  by  one  or  two  lookers  on  and  is  dis- 
patched with  their  lances. 

This  is  the  way  grizzly  bears  were  captured  and  slain  in  the 
olden  California  times,  a  dangerous  performance  surely,  for 
even  now  with  needle  guns  and  Winchester  rifles  it  is  a 
most  hazardous  undertaking  to  attack  a  bear,  and  whomever 
does  it  runs  more  risk  of  life  and  limb  than  he  would  ever  have 
ran  at  Shiloh  or  Antietam.  I  could  relate  many  sanguinary 


252  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

encounters  with  grizzly  bears  in  early  times  and  will  now  relate 
a  few  that  are  more  fixed  in  my  mind. 

The  first  of  which  I  remember  was  that  of  Jim  Boggs  of 
Sonoma  county,  in  1850.     Jim  was  out  one  day  with  a  com- 
panion and  espied  a  goodly-sized  grizzly  grazing  along  on  the 
green    sward.     Jim's    partner,   being    somewhat   dextrous   in 
throwing   the   lazo,    caught    the   old   boy   around    the    body. 
Whereupon  the  bear  took  a  seat  and  quietly  drew  in  the  man 
and  horse,  and  most  unfortunately  the  end  of  the  riata  was 
tied  to  the  saddle.     The  horse  struggled  to  escape,  the  saddle 
WHS  turned,  the  rider  fell  off  and  was  caught  by  the  bear,  and 
by  some   means  or  other  the  horse   freed   himself  from   the 
saddle  and  ran  away.     Boggs  finding  his  companion  in  the 
terrible  toils  of  the  monster  drew  his  revolver  and   bravely 
approached,  placed  the  muzzle  against  the  side  of  the  bear's 
head  and  fired.     The  bear  at  once  released  the  man,  who  took 
to  his  heels  and  left  Jim  and  the  bear  to  fight  it  out.     Jim  got 
in  one  more  shot  and  then  the  bear  pounced  upon  him  and 
killed  him,  as  the  bear  thought.     Finding  himself  in  the  mon- 
ster's clutches,  Jim  pretended  to  be  lifeless,  was  only  consider- 
ably bitten  and  torn  to  pieces.     The  bear  left  him  and  started 
away.     Jim  said,  UI  turned  over  a  little,  raised  my  head,  and 
there  went  the  old  bear,  licking  her  chops,  but  just  as  I  raised 
my  head  she  turned  her  eye  and  we  looked  each  other  square 
in  the  face  for  an  instant,  when  the  bear  turned  around  and 
sprang  upon  me  just  as  I've  seen  a  cat  spring  upon  a  mouse. 
It  took  my  whole  face  in  its  mouth,  and  crushing  the  bones, 
slung  me  around  and  shook  me  until  I  was  senseless,  and  for 
many  days  it  was  quite  unnecesary  for  me  to  make  believe  dead, 
because  I  was  on  the  very  doorstep  of  eternity."     Jim  was 
horribly  mangled,  bones  broken  generally  and  the  flesh  in  places 
literally  stripped  from  his  limbs  and  body. 

Colonel  William  Butts  was,  in  '54  and  '55,  senior  editor  of 
the  Southern  Californian,  published  under  the  firm  name  of 


I 

REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  253 

Butts  &  Wheeler — John  O.  Wheeler  being  the  associate  editor. 
The  paper  was  most  ably  conducted,  and  edited  with  a  degree 
.of  ability  rarely  exceeded  within  the  limits  of  the  State.     Butts 
was  an  adopted  son  of  the  great  Thomas  H.  Benton,  and  had 
served  as  an  officer  in  the  regular  army,  a  daring  spirit  who 
always  courted  danger  and  sought  adventure,  was  in  '53  the 
hero  of  a  bear  fight,  the  most  remarkable  of  which  I  ever  had 
knowledge.      It  happened   in    San    Luis    Obispo   county.      I 
believe  it  was  at  the  ranch  of  Captain  Wilson  that  a  party  was 
made  up  to  kill  an  immense  grizzly  who  would  pick  up  a  full- 
grown  cow  and  walk  away  with  her  in  his  mouth,  with  as  much 
ease  as  a  mastiff"  would  carry  a  rabbit.     Butts  was  the  only 
one  of  the  party  whom  I  knew,  and  as  he  was  the  hero,  is  the 
only  one    to  be  mentioned.     The    grizzly  was  found   on  the 
edge  of  the   plain  near    a  chaparral,    and    was   immediately 
attacked  by  the  hunters  who  lodged  several  balls  in  his  body 
with  which    he  escaped.     The  party  commenced  to  beat  the 
bush  to  get  the  bear  out,  and  against  the  remonstrances  of  all 
Butts  followed  the  bear's  trail  into  the  thicket.       The  trail 
soon  entered  the  dry,  gravelly  bed  of  an  arroyo  and  was  easily 
followed.     Butts  had  followed  the  bear's  track  for  about  a  half 
mile  when  suddenly  he  lost  it.      Being  confused  he  .stopped  to 
deliberate,  and  was  standing  within  a  few  feet  of  the  bear  that 
had  lain   down   in  the   shade   of  a    clump   of  chaparral    on 
the   side  of  the    arroyo.      With    a    great    growl    it    sprang 
upon   him  so   suddenly    that   he   had   no   possible   chance   of 
using   his   yeager,   but   as   he   went  down   under   the  ponde- 
rous  weight   of  the   bear   he   got   his    hunting    knife  out   of 
its  scabbard,  and  then  the  mortal  strife  commenced.     Butts 
declared  that  he  never  lost  his  presence  of  mind,  but  endeavored 
to  stab  the  bear  in  its  vital  parts,  and  that  time  after  time  he 
thrust  his  eight-inch  blade  to  the  hilt  in  the  bear's  body  as  it 
stood  over  him  biting  and  tearing  him  with  its  claws.     Butts 
said  "the  last  sensation  I  had  was  the  brute  dragging  itself 


254  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

over  me,  and  "its  entrails  trailing  across  iuy  face."  A  half 
hour  later  the  two  combatants  were  found — the  bear  dead, 
Butts  torn  into  pieces  and  apparently  so.  After  examination 
showed  that  the  bones  of  his  face  were  so  crushed  that  he  was 
disfigured  for  life  ;  the  bones  of  his  left  arm  and  right  leg 
were  fractured  in  several  places  ;  some  of  his  ribs  were  crushed 
in,  and  his  body  and  legs  were  literally  cut  into  strips. 

It  turned  out  that  the  bear  had  been  severely  wounded  by 
the  shots  fired  into  it,  but  not  mortally;  that  Butts'  knife  had 
twice  penetrated  the  lungs  and  once  entered  the  heart,  and  that 
an  incision  was  made  in  its  bowels  nearly  a  foot  long.  A 
litter  was  hastily  constructed  and  poor  Butts  was  carefully 
carried  to  the  ranqh,  a  surgeon  sent  for.  and  then  some  of  the 
party  with  some  Indians  and  a  Mexican  cart  and  oxen  went  for 
the  bear  which,  after  an  immense  amount  of  difficulty  was 
successfully  transported  to  the  ranch,  skinned,  cut  into  pieces, 
and  when  weighed  pulled  down  2100  pounds  avourdupois — 
almost  incredible  to  believe. 

We  had  a  bull  and  bear  fight  here  in  Los  Angeles  in  '54. 
The  bear  was  a  half-grown  young  fellow,  and  would  have 
weighed  not  exceeding  500  or  600  pounds.  Colonel  Butts  went 
to  the  arena  to  take  a  look  at  the  combatants  prior  to  the 
fight.  After  examining  the  bear  critically  he  turned  away, 
remarking,  "  Well,  if  I  couldn't  whip  that  bear  in  a  rough-and- 
tumble,  I  wouldn't  consider  myself  anything  in  a  bear  fight." 

Although  possessed  of  considerable  capital,  and  with  a  rare 
editorial  ability,  the  restless  spirit  of  the  gallant  Butts  must 
find  a  more  prolific  field  for  'adventure,  than  the  dull  times  that 
fell  apace  upon  California  in  '55  and  '56  afforded,  so  with  a 
legion  of  others  of  like  spirit  he  went  to  Nicaragua  to  uphold 
the  flaunting  flag  of  manifest  destiny,  and  was  there  so 
wounded  and  riddled  with  bullets  that  after  his  return  to  Ohio, 
the  place  of  his  birth,  he  died  thereof.  The  City  of  Angels 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  255 

never  had  in  her  firmament  a  brighter  star  than  the  brave  and 
talented  Butts. 

In  '54  Andy  Sublette  was  mortally  injured  by  a  bear  in  one 
of  the  canons  near  Santa  Monica.    I  believe  it  was  the  Malibu, 
commonly  called  Malaga,  and  preliminarily  I  must  state  who 
Andy  Sublette  was,  and  then  how  he  came  to  be  killed.  •  There 
were  three  brothers  of  the  Sublette  family,  Bill,  Andy,  and  the 
other  one's  name  I  forget,  Andy  being  the  only  one  known  to 
me  personally.     The  Sublettes  were  Rocky  Mountain  princes, 
leaders  among  the  mountaineers  of  the  times  anterior  to  Fre- 
mont's explorations,  the  Mexican  war  and  the  golden  crusade 
to  California.     They  were  the  founders  of  Fort  Laramie,  from 
which  stronghold  they  dictated  terms  of  peace  to  the  haughty 
tribes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  declared  war  when  war  was 
more  to  their  fancy  than  peace.     The  Sublettes  sold  Laramie 
to  the  American  Fur  Company,  of  which  one  of  the  Cheauteaus 
of  St.  Louis  was  chief.     That  Company,  in  '48,  I  believe,  sold 
the  fort  to  the  United  States,  and  it  has  since  then  been  main- 
tained as  a  military  post.     What  memories  of  romance  and 
adventure  cluster  around  that  romantic  and  historic  place,  in 
the  spur  of  the  great  mountain  chain !     Emerson  Bennett,  in 
his  inimitable  pictures  of  Indian  life,  casts  a  halo  of  interest 
around  Laramie  that  is  perfectly  enchanting.     It  is  a  beautiful 
and  romantic  spot  situated  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Laramie 
fork  of  the  Platte,  a  few  miles  from  its  confluence  with  the 
latter  stream.     In  June,  '50,  on  our  journey  hither  we  stopped 
at  Laramie  for  a  week  and  cut  om*  wagons  up  and  made  them 
into  pack-saddles,  and  traded  our  fine  American  horses  to  Kit 
Carson  for. Mexican  mules  preparatory  to  encountering  the  great 
barrier.     Well,  as  I  before  said,  Andy  Sublette  was  a  Rocky 
Mountain  princes,  and  in  addition  thereto  was  a  natural  born 
gentleman,  with  manners  as  refined,  gentle  and   polished  as 
though  he  had  never  been  beyond  the  confines  of  the  most 
cultivated  society,  and  I  may  say  almost  the  same  of  all  that 


256  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

old  first-class  Rocky  Mountain  Men, — they  were  peculiarly 
sedate  and  quiet  in  their  manners.  Andy  had  only  recovered 
from  severe  injuries  received  in  an  encounter  with  a  bear  at 
Elizabeth  Lake  when  in  company  with  Jim  Thompson  he  went 
on  a  bear  hunt  that  was  to  be  his  last.  Somehow  or  other  he 
became  separated  from  the  party  and  found  a  grizzly  and  shot 
him,  but  before  he  could  reload  the  fierce  brute  was  upon  him. 
Poor  Andy!  it  was  his  last  fight,  and  gallantly  did  he  main- 
tain his  former  renown.  His  faithful  dog,  "old  Buck,"  was 
with  him,  and  the  two  fought,  Andy  with  his  knife  and  old 
Buck  with  the  weapons  furnished  by  nature,  and  gained  the 
victory  over  the  mountain  king.  When  Thompson  found  them 
the  bear  lay  dead,  Andy  was  insensible  and  "old  Buck,"  lascer- 
ated  in  a  shocking  manner,  was  licking  the  blood  from  poor 
Andy's  face.  Tenderly  were  the  two,  man  and  dog,  brought  to 
the  city  and  comfortably  lodged  and  cared  for  in  the  Padilla 
building,  the  present  U.  S.  Hotel  corner.  For  many  days  the 
struggle  between  life  and  death  was  fierce.  Sometimes  Andy 
would  get  the  better  of  the  grim  destroyer  only  to  be  again 
driven  to  the  wall.  Old  Buck  was  as  tenderly  cared  for  as  was 
his  gallant  master,  Jim  Thompson,  with  his  great,  good  heart, 
watching  night  and  day  by  the  bedside  of  the  two  heroes, 
while  other  friends  stood  ready  to  assist.  Old  Buck  lay  on  a 
nice  pallet  at  the  side  of  Andy's  bed.  When  his  master  was 
unconscious  the  old  dog  would  almost  break  his  heart  with 
piteous,  subdued  moaning,  and  when  Andy  in  his  delirium 
would  imagine  himself  still  fighting  the  bear  and  would 
say  "seize  him,  Buck,"  "at  him,  old  fellow;"  "we'll  get 
him  yet,"  and  like  expressions,  old  Buck  would  raise  his  lore- 
paw  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and  would  give  a  bewildering  growl. 
Finally  death  came  out  first  best,  as  he  always  does,  and  poor 
Andy  was  one  of  the  first  to  be  interred  in  the  Fort  Hill 
cemetery.  Old  Buck  rode  in  the  wagon  that  took  Andy  to  his 
last  resting  place,  he  and  Jim  Thompson  being  chief  mourners. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  257 

About  every  gringo  in  the  place  turned  out  at  Andy's  funeral, 
and  it  is  safe  to  aver  that  there  was  not  one  person  who  left 
that  graveyard  with  tearless  eyes,  on  account  not  of  the 
loss  of  a  gallant  man,  a  friend  and  Christian  'neighbor,  but 
for  the  doleful  distress  of  poor  old  Buck,  who  utterly  refused 
to  bb  comforted  and  to  be  removed  from  his  dead  master's 
grave.  So  there  he  was  left  to  exhaust  his  grief,  which  we  all 
thought  he  would  do  in  a  little  while.  Twice,  and  sometimes 
three  times  a  day,  Jim  Thompson  and  other  kind-hearted 
friends  would  take  Buck  food  and  drink,  and  tried  in  vain  to 
induce  him  to  leave  the  grave.  The  faithful  old  dog  refused  to 
be  comforted,  refused  to  eat  or  drink,  and  on  the  third  day  he 
died,  and  was  buried  at  the  feet  of  his  dead  friend  and  master. 
Does  the  reader  believe  that  dog  had  a  soul  worth  saving,  a 
soul  that  was  saved,  or  that  when  old  Buck  died  of  grief,  when 
his  great  heart  was  broken,  that  that  was  the  end  of  the  brave, 
faithful,  honest  old  dog ;  or  that  when  Gabriel  sounds  his 
resurrection  horn,  that  the  spirit  of  Andy  Sublette  will  be  re- 
united in  a  happy  hunting  ground  with  the  spirit  of  his  faith- 
iul  friend  ?  Quien  sale  ?  We  will  see. 

Bears  are  sometimes  peculiar  as  well  as  dogs,  and  one  of  the 
most  peculiar  and  funny  freaks  of  a  bear  I  know  of  is  the  fol- 
lowing, which  is  a  well-known  fact,  and  the  infantile  hero  of 
this  bear  story  was  a  well-known  and  prominent  man  in  our 
country,  quite  recently  deceased.  Well,  the  story  is  to  this 
effect  :  A  ranchero  who  dwelt  near  the  mountain's  base,  near 
our  angel  burg,  had  a  wife  and  one  child,  a  little  boy  about 
three  years  old.  The  husband  was  absent  one  day,  as  was  his 
daily  habit,  looking  after  his  herds,  and  the  young  wife,  leaving 
the  little  Vicente  to  manage  his  own  affairs,  went  to  the  spring 
to  wash  some  clothes,  being  absent  about  an  hour.  When  she 
returned  what  was  her  alarm  and  horror  to  find  an  immense 
grizzly  playing  pranks  and  cutting  up  rustics  with  the  infantile 

Vicente,  the  two  seeming  to  be  on  terms  of  the  most  affection- 
17 


258  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    UANGER. 

ate  intimacy.  The  old  bear  would  lay  on  her  back,  and  would 
hold  the  little  fellow  up  in  her  great  paws,  and  would  toss  him 
around  and  tenderly  hug  him,  and  the  little  Don  would  scream 
with  delight,  so  pleased  he  seemed  to  be  with  his  new-found 
friend.  What  was  to  be  done  was  the  absorbing  question  in 
the  mind  of  the  poor  mother,  so  the  only  thing  she  could  do 
was  to  pray  to  the  saints  to  deliver  her  boy ;  but  the  boy  did 
not  want  to  be  delivered,  and  the  two  newly-made  and  strange 
acquaintances  continued  their  gambols  until  near  the  close  of 
day,  when  Madame  Osa,  leaving  little  Vicente,  who  was  fain  to 
follow,  took  up  her  line  of  march  for  her  home  in  the  Sierra. 
The  anxious  mother  lost  no  time  in  securing  the  youthful  rene- 
gade, who  had  conceived  so  strange  an  affection  for  a  bear,  and 
who  in  later  years  was  wont  to  speak  of  his  mamma  La  Osa. 

Fred  Stacer,  now  a  wealthy  farmer  in  Indiana,  when  here  in 
early  times  was  quite  a  boy  in  years,  but  one  of  the  most  cun- 
ning woodsmen  and  formidable  hunters  I  ever  knew.  Camp 
wherever  we  might,  Fred  would  sally  forth  with  his  old 
Mississippi  rifle,  one  that  he  had  picked  up  on  the  gory  field  of 
Buena  Vista  (the  truth  being  that  as  a  boy  he  had  accom- 
panied Gen.  Joe  Lane  to  Mexico  in  the  capacity  of  Orderly), 
and  in  a  little  while  he  would  return  with  a  supply  of  venison. 
Fred  was  also  a  bear  hunter,  and  had  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion come  out  first  best  in  a  bear  fight.  One  time  a  party  of 
us  were  encamped  in  one  of  the  many  mountain  valleys  of  our 
beautiful  coast  range,  and  Fred  as  usual  had  gone  out  with  his 
gun.  In  due  course  of  time  he  came  in,  limping  along  in  a 
doleful  plight,  his  clothes  torn  in  tatters,  his  face,  arms  and 
body  sciatched  and  clawed  in  a  fearful  manner  ;  in  fact  he  was 
dreadfully  used  up,  but  as  he  said  in  response  to  our  anxious 
inquiries,  "Boys,  I'm  pretty  badly  whipped,  but  not  quite 
done  for."  He  then  told  us  he  had  killed  a  young  grizzly,  and 
that  tne  old  bear  mamma  had  got  hold  of  him.  He  said  he 
was  walking  along  down  on  one  side  of  a  steep  descending  ridge 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  259 

or  backbone,  and  suddenly  came  upon  two  young  grizzlies,  and 
shot  one  of  them  dead.  Hastily  reloading  his  rifle  he  took 
after  the  other,  which  ran  along  the  mountain  side  in  a  horizon- 
tal line,  which  soon  brought  it  and  also  its  pursuer  to  the 
backbone  or  summit  of  the  ridge.  The  cub  had  from  the  first 
set  up  a  terrific  squalling,  and  it  so  happened  that  the  old  she 
bear  had  been  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ridge  when  her  first 
cub  was  killed,  and  followed  in  the  direction  taken  by  the 
frightened  young  survivor.  The  result  was  that  the  old  she  bear, 
Fred  Stacer  and  the  cub  all  met  on  a  converged  line.  When 
the  old  bear  saw  Fred  she  ran  back  a  few  paces,  stopped,  looked 
at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  commenced  to  walk  deliberately 
toward  him.  Fred  knew  he  could  hit  her  directly  in  the  eye, 
so  he  quietly  awaited  her  approach  until  she  got  within  ten 
feet  of  him,  when  he  pulled  away,  and  lo !  for  the  first  time  his 
gun  missed  fire.  He  had  forgotten  to  put  a  cap  on  the  tube. 
As  quick  as  a  flash  the  old  bear  sprang  upon  him,  and  the  two 
commenced  to  roll  down  the  steep  mountain  side,  Fred  strug- 
gling to  escape,  and  the  bear  plying  teeth  and  toe-nail  as  best 
she  could.  The  further  they  went  the  more  rapid  became  their 
motion,  and  finally  the  two  plunged  over  a  perpendicular,  rocky 
precipice  more  than  fifty  feet  high,  and  lodged  in  the  top  of  a 
live  oak  tree  that  grew  at  the  bottom.  Fortunately  when  they 
struck  the  tough  but  yielding  branches  of  the  tree  Fred  Avas  on 
top.  and  lodged,  and  held  on  for  dear  life,  while  the  bear  went 
crashing  through  to  the  bottom,  and  thus  was  the  luckless  and 
lucky  Nimrod  delivered  from  the  clutches  of  the  mountain 
monster.  Leaving  poor  Fred  in  camp,  we  proceeded  to  the 
place  of  encounter  and  found  the  dead  cub,  the  rifle,  and  then 
descended  the  rugged  mountain  side  to  the  precipice  and  the 
place  where  the  old  bear  had  fallen,  but  she  was  gone. 

One  more  bear  story  and  this  subject  will  be  disposed  of. 
In  February,  1855,  a  party  consisting  of  Aleck  Beli,  Zack 
Moore,  W.  T.  Clark.  Nelse  Williamson,  the  author,  and  that 


260  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

famous  ante-bellum  pioneer  and  ex-officer  of  the  Fremont 
battalion,  Bill  Bradshaw,  who  gave  name  to  the  Bradshaw 
District  in  Arizona,  were  prospecting  for  placer  gold  on  the  head 
waters  of  Kern  River.  One  day  Bradshaw  was  out  on  a  hunt, 
had  an  encounter  with  and  a  narrow  escape  from  a  grizzly. 
Bill  was  a  very  cool  and  brave  fellow  but  excessively  nervous, 
and  sustained  in  addition  to  considerable  physical  injury,  a  great 
nervous  shock.  We  were  camped  in  a  thicket  and  at  about  mid- 
night were  awakened  by  a  shot  and  cry  of  distress  from  the  brush. 
Springing  to  our  feet,  to  our  horror  we  found  that  Bradshaw 
had  shot  Williamson,  who  had  quietly  arisen  and  had  retired  a 
few  paces  into  the  bushes.  Bradshaw  hearing  him,  sprang  up, 
rifle  in  hand,  and  having  nothing  but  grizzly  on  his  mind, 
and  imagining  the  noise  in  the  bushes  to  proceed  from  a 
bear  fired,  and  shot  poor  Nelse  through  the  body.  We  then 
had  to  carry  the  wounded  man  on  a  mule  litter  more  than  one 
hundred  miles  to  Fort  Tejon,  where  he  received  the  first  surg- 
cal  assistance,  and  a  few  months  thereafter  was  brought  to  Los 
Angeles,  and  lingered  on  the  very  door-step  of  eternity  for  two 
or  three  years  and  finally  recovered,  being  now,  in  1881, 
nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  hale,  hearty  and  happy,  and  except 
a  difficult  limp  and  painful  recollection,  has  nothing  to  remind 
him  of  this  my  last  bear  story. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  261 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Parker  H.  French— His  Grand  Overland  Expedition  From  San  Antonio  de 
Bexar — Capture  of  the  Expedition  at  El  Paso — French  turns  Robber 
and  Brings  Up  in  the  Durango  Prison — His  Arm  Amputated — Is  a 
Guest  at  the  Bella  Union — Goes  to  San  Luis  Obispo  and  Gets  to  be  a 
Senator — His  Antics— Sells  and  Mortgages  His  Constituents'  Ranches — 
Turns  Up  in  Nicaragua — Minister  to  Washington — Is  Kicked  Out  of 
Nicaragua  and  Turns  Up  Again  a  Prisoner  of  State  in  Fort  Lafayette — 
A  Dangerous  Confederate  ^py. 


iLOISTG  about  May,  '53,  a  most  remarkable  character 
hung  up  his  hat  at  the  Bella  Union  for  a  brief  period 
and  then  turned  his  face  westward  for  the  upper  coun- 
try, making  a  halt  of  sufficient  length  of  time  in  San  Luis 
Obispo  to  have  himself  elected  to  the  Legislature  and  to  play 
hob  generally  with  the  honest  Obispoans.  Had  this  most  enter- 
prising individual  domiciliated  himself  in  our  terrestrial  paradise 
there  is  no  telling  to  what  distinction  he  might  have  attained. 
However,  he  scorned  to  be  an  angel  and  with  the  angels  dwell, 
and  as  before  stated  honored  the  good  people  of  San  Luis  with 
his  gringo  presence.  The  ardent  adventurer  now  brought 
before  the  reader  was  the  renowned  Parker  H.  French,  by 
many  known  as  one-armed  French,  and  when  he  hung  his  hat 
on  the  hotel  peg  of  our  venerable  Bella  Union,  his  said  hat 
and  his  very  limited  wardrobe  generally  had  the  musty  srnell  of 
a  Mexican  prison  on  them.  The  old  hat  and  damaged  dry 
goods  soon  went  to  the  gutter,  and  Parker  arrayed  his  well- 
formed  person  in  elegant  vestments,  and  made  a  dashing  hotel 
figure  daring  his  brief  stay  in  Los  Angeles. 

Our  hero  was  a  gifted  man,  and  one  of  his  peculiar  gifts 
was   his  ability  to  beat  tailors  and   dry  goods   men.     Hotel 


262  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

keepers  were  his  special  delight.  Our  Jew-merchants  were 
generous,  jovial  and  jolly.  Either  Lazard,  Morris,  Kalisher 
or  Kohn  would  sell  the  most  seedy  newcomer  a  suit  of  raiment 
and  trust  to  his  honor  or  good  luck  for  their  pay.  These 
guileless  Hebrews  must  have  cast  a  vast  amount  of  bread 
upon  the  waters  in  those,  pioneer  times,  which  I  fear  me  will 
never  return  to  them.  I  am  sure  that  whoever  it  was  that 
arrayed  the  ragged  French  in  rare  cloth  and  fine  linen  never 
got  so  much  as  thank  you  for  their  pay,  for  be  it  known 
Parker's  rarest  gift  was  ingratitude.  So  whenever  a  person 
sold  anything  to  him  he,  the  vendor,  sold  himself  at  the  same 
time. 

Notwithstanding,  when  Parker  made  his  appearance  in  our 
Angel  City  he  was  as  penniless  as  a  preacher,  it  cost  a  million 
dollars  to  get  him  here,  as  well  as  having  cost  him  his  good 
right  hand,  which  he  was  so  fain  to  use  in  appending  other 
men's  names  to  his  own  paper.  French  was  an  Illinois  man, 
and  in  the  spring  of  '49  made  his  appearance  in  San  Antonio, 
Texas,  with  a  letter  of  credit  from  Howland  &  Aspinwall,  of 
New  York,  for  $750,000,  and  at  once  set  himself  at  work  to 
organize  an  overland  passenger  train  to  the  land  of  gold.  In  a 
space  of  time,  so  brief  that  the  good  people  of  Bexar  had  no 
time  to  marvel  at  the  marvellous  manner  which  marked  the 
movements  attending  the  organization,  the  hitching  up,  and 
the  hauling  out  of  the  most  magnificent  passenger  train  that 
ever  took  its  departure  westward  from  that  famous  starting  point. 

One  hundred  splendid  ambulances,  to  which  were  attached 
six  hundred  beautiful  mules,  in  splendid  harness;  in  each  am- 
bulance were  seated  a  driver  and  six  passengers — each  passenger 
paying,  in  advance,  the  sum  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
passage  money  to  Sacramento  City.  Accompanying  this  beau- 
tiful train  were  baggage  and  provision  wagons,  a  .herd  of  extra 
mules,  and  horses,  with  a  corps  of  cooks,  herders  and  hunters, 
with  Quartermaster,  Commissary  and  Wagon  Masters,  mounted 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  263 

men  as  outriders,  flanquers,  videttes  and  rear  guards,  with 
pomp  and  parade,  with  flags  flying,  music  and  song,  and  to  the 
melody  of 

"  Oh,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry  for  me," 

This  brilliant  train  of  ardent  Argonauts  clattered  through  the 
narrow  streets  of  San  Antonio  de  Bexar,  and  made  its  first 
day's  march  to  Castroville,  thence,  ho  !  for  California !  Every- 
thing went  as  merry  as  a  marriage  bell  until  the  train  arrived 
at  El  Paso,  when  lo !  a  military  cavalry  guard  from  Texas 
overhauled  the  train,  with  orders  to  capture  and  detain  the 
property  of  the  expedition,  and  arrest  French  and  send  him 
back  to  San  Antonio. 

With  his  forged  letter  of  credit,  French  had  drawn  on  How- 
land  &  Aspinwall  for  near  a  million  of  dollars.  The  assist- 
ance of  the  Government  had  been  evoked,  hence  the  military 
pursuit  and  order  of  arrest,  as  above  set  forth.  Parker  H.  was 
not  to  be  caught  napping — he  was  too  sharp  for  that — he  rallied 
around  him  a  few  desperadoes,  resisted  the  military,  and  suc- 
ceeding in  crossing  the  Rio  Grande  into  Mexico  with  quite  a 
following  of  mounted  men,  and  struck  out  for,  and,  without  any 
serious  mishap,  reached  the  City  of  Chihuahua,  and  there  rested. 

Many  of  the  deluded  passengers  found  their  way  on  foot,  and 
as  best  they  could,  to  San  Diego  and  Los  Angeles,  others  were 
cruelly  murdered  by  the  Apaches  in  their  vain  endeavors  to 
accomplish  that  journey,  while  still  many  others  managed  to 
get  back  to  Texas,  and  thence  found  some  other  way  of  reaching 
our  golden  shores,  and  a  few  discouraged,  remained  in  New 
Mexico,  or  drifted  over  into  the  Latin-Aztec  Eepublic.  In  my 
early  mining  experience  I  was  in  company  with  a  Dr.  Jackson, 
a  Mr.  Wm.  Hazeltine  and  "Yank"  Bartlette,  the  latter  now 
residing  in  Arizona,  and  the  only  living  person  of  whom  I  have 
any  knowledge  who  was  of  that  rascally-romantic  unfortunate 
passenger  expedition.  From  those  gentlemen  I  learned  the 
facts  as  I  now  give  them. 


204  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

French  was  in  Chihuahua  out  of  money  and  could  not  raise 
a  dollar,  and  with  his  party  undertook  to  rob  his  way  to 
Mazatlan,  and  the  whole  batch  brought  up  in  the  ])urango 
Mexican  prison,  where,  in  an  attempt  to  overpower  the  guard, 
French  had  his  arm  shattered  at  the  elbow  with  a  musket  ball, 
several  of  his  comrades  were  killed  in  the  attempt,  all  were 
overpowered  and  French's  arm  was  amputated  in  the  prison. 
Whatever  became  of  those  men  I  never  knew;  one  Malcom  was 
released  and  reached  Los  Angeles  in  '52,  and  started  the  first 
livery  stable  in  the  city  at  the  place  where  now  the  north-east 
corner  of  Central  block,  belonging  to  the  Lanfranco  family 
stands.  French  regained  his  liberty — how  I  never  knew — reahed 
Los  Angeles  in  '53,  and  when  the  Legislature  met  at  Vallejo 
the  same  year,  Parker  handed  in  his  credentials  as  Senator  and 
so  seated  himself.  He  however  gave  little  attention  to  matters 
legislative,  but  gave  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  selling  and 
mortgaging  the  ranchos  of  his  constituents  to  San  Francisco 
money-lenders  and  speculators.  He  soon  disappeared  from 
halls  legislative,  and  from  places  speculative,  and  to  the  general 
consternation  of  the  credulous  and  confiding  Obispoans,  their 
Senator,  by  forged  powers  of  attorney,  had  sold  and  mortgaged 
about  every  ranch  in  the  county  worth  the  trouble.  Where 
the  Senator  went  to  the  devil  only  knew,  and  was  never 
more  heard  of  till  he  turned  up  in  this  way.  When  Walker 
was  in  Nicaragua  in  '56,  a  lake  steamer  with  passengers  from 
New  York  to  San  Francisco  in  passing  over  Lake  Nicaragua 
was  fired  into  from  Fort  San  Carlos,  then  held  by  the  enemies 
of  the  Walker-Rivas  government  in  Nicaragua.  French  was  a 
passenger,  but  whether  bound  fbr  San  Francisco,  or  had  come 
out  to  join  Walker  is  of  little  moment ;  suffice  it  to  say  the 
steamer  lay  to  and  Parker  raised  a  crowd  of  roughs  who  were 
on  board,  took  the  boats,  landed,  and  with  their  revolvers 
stormed  and  captured  the  fort  and  forced  the  garrison  to  lay 
down  its  arms  and  surrender  at  discretion;  for  which  act  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER  265 

gallantry  the  Walker-Rivas  Government  sent  him  as  "  Envoy 
Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  the  Government 
of  Washington."  With  his  Filibuster  credentials  this  enterpris- 
ing vagabond  presented  himself  to  Secretary  Marcy,  and  with 
the  cool  audacity  of  a  Tallyrand  demanded  the  recognition  of 
his  Filibuster-Manifest-Destiny  Government  of  Nicaragua. 

Marcy,  in  language  forcible  but  politely  diplomatique,  in- 
formed Mr.  Envoy  that  if  he  did  not  clear  out  and  vamose  the 
capital,  and  hie  himself  to  his  own  country,  he  would  have  him 
handed  over  to  the  authorities  as  an  offender  against  the  laws 
of  the  land.  So  Parker  took  the  hint  and  vamosed  the 
ranch,  cleared  out,  cut  stick,  and  returned  to  Nicaragua, 
threatening  war  and  dire  vengeance  on  perfidious  Yankeedom. 

When,  on  his  return,  the  illustrious  Envoy  presented  himself 
at  the  National  Palace  in  Nicaragua,  his  ardor  was  somewhat 
cooled,  and  his  threats  of  vengeance  were  modified,  when 
Walker,  the  great  Filibuster  chief,  who  was  chagrined  at 
French's  failure,  took  him  roughly  by  the  shoulders,  faced  him 
about,  and  kicked  him  out  of  the  country.  Where  he  went  to 
thence  we  may,  if  we  so  desire,  inquire  of  Old  Nick,  for  surely 
Parker  belonged  to  him  ;  but  in  'f>9  he  played  some  pranks  on 
the  people  of  Mississippi,  which  caused  him  to  suddenly  shake 
the  dust  of  that  State  from  his  fleeing  feet,  and  hie  him  thence 
for  fields  prolific.  That  was  the  last  of  Parker,  so  far  as  any 
one  knoweth  or  careth  to  know,  except  the  following :  After 
the  battle  of  Antietam,  in  which  the  author  participated,  and 
after  three  campaigns  in  Virginia  and  one  in  Kentucky,  Ten- 
nessee and  Mississippi,  I  went  to  New  York  City  recruiting, 
for  recreation,  pleasure,  rest,  and  a  general  good  time,  so  much 
enjoyed  by  a  soldier  on  leave.  Well,  I  went  down  to  see 
Boston,  and  to  visit  my  old  and  gallant  scouting  comrade  in  the 
first  campaign  of  the  war,  J.  W.  Gordon,  Major  of  the  llth 
U.  S.  Regulars,  and  commanding  Fort  Warren.  I  also  visited 
Fort  Lafayette,  and  saw  the  prisoners  of  state,  among  whom  it 


266 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


grieved  me  to  find  several  well-known  Californians  ;  and  more 
important  than  all,  I  found  the  Illinois  store  clerk,  the  Texas 
forger  of  a  million  of  dollars,  the  bandit  in  Mexico,  the  Bella 
Union  guest  in  Los  Angeles,  the  San  Louis  Obispo  Senator,  the 
Nicaragua  "Envio  Extraordinario  y  Ministro  Plenipoten- 
tiario,"  Parker  H.  French.  I  inquired  how  he  came  there,  and 
was  informed  that  he  had  been  arrested  as  a  most  dangerous 
and  enterprising  spy  of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  And  so 
endeth  the  author's  knowledge  of  this  remarkable  character,  and 
so  endeth  this  chapter,  devoted  to  his  transcendant  and  mis- 
guided genius. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  267 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

John  Glanton  and  His  Chihuahua  Scalp  Hunters — Mustang  Gray  and 
His  Ranger  Protege" — Glauton  and  His  Rangers  Reacli  Chihuahua — 
Treat  With  the  Chihuahua  Governor —Apache  Scalps  for  Two  Ounces 
Each — Ben.  Riddle  and  John  Abel — The  First  Campaign— Grand  Suc- 
cess and  Golden  Reward — The  Second  ^  Campaign — A  Mistake  in 
Scalps — Flight  of  the  Rangers — Arrival  at  Jesus  Maria — The  Mexican 
Flag  "Outrage — The  Second  Flight — Arrival  at  Tucson — The  Place 
Besieged  by  Mangas  Colorado — The  Rangers  Save  the  Place— Great 
Joy  of  the  Inhabitants — The  Last  Camp — Massacre — The  Two  Browns. 

TELEGRAM. 

PASO,  September  23d,  1880  :— "  Governor  Tarrasas 
offers  a  reward  of  $1,000  for  the  scalp  of  Victorio." 

On  reading  the  above  it  occurred  to  the  mind  of  the 
chronicler  hereof  that  Chihuahua's  Governor  should  use  a  care- 
ful discrimination,  and  make  sure  of  the  identity  of  the  scalp 
referred  to  before  he  paid  out  his  coin,  or  he  might  be  cheated, 
and  get  one  other  than  that  of  the  celebrated  Victorio.  Deal- 
ing in  scalps  is  a  dangerous  business,  as  the  sequel  will  show. 
Those  who  have  read  Jere  Clemens'  "  Mustang  Gray,"  will  re- 
member that  the  hero  of  that  book  (a  real  character)  was  a 
noted  Texas  Ranger,  that  he  had  a  boy  protege,  John  Glanton 
by  name,  whom  he  instructed  in  all  the  mysteries  of  Indian 
fighting,  hunting,  trailing,  lassoing  mustangs,  and  scalping  an 
occasional  Mexican,  whose  appearance  failed  to  favorably  impress 
the  two  heroes.  At  fifteen  years  of  age,  John  was  one  of  the 
most  noted  Rangers  on  the  frontier;  at  sixteen  he  was  Captain 
of  a  Ranger  Company,  and  as  such  served  through  the  Mexican 
war,  and  won  great  renown  as  a  scout.  Sometime  during  the 
summer  of  '49,  Glanton,  at  the  head  of  a  party  of  desperate 


268  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

adventurers,  left  San  Antonio  overland  for  California,  leaving 
behind  him  a  newly  wedded  wife,  a  most  estimable  and  highly 
cultured  lady,  of  one  of  the  best  families  of  that  romantic 
frontier  city.  The  expedition,  in  due  course  of  time,  arrived 
in  Chihuahua,  and  halted  for  recreation  and  pleasure.  At  this 
time  the  Apaches  were  peculiarly  bold  in  their  raids,  murdering 
citizens  and  desolating  villages  and  outlying  ranches.  They 
had  become  so  annoying  that  the  Governor  of  the  State  had 
offered  two  ounces  ($32)  for  each  and  every  Apache  seal})  taken 
bj  any  one  whomsoever. 

Glanton  and  his  party  proposed  ji  campaign,  but  had  not  the 
necessary  means  of  procuring  supplies.  At  this  juncture  Ben- 
jamin Riddle,  a  merchant  and  American  Consul,  and  John  Abel, 
an  American  resident,  patriotically  supplied  the  cash  ($2,500) 
on  the  venture,  and  being  thus  supplied  with  the  sinews  of  war, 
Glanton  lost  no  time  in  preparations,  and  was  soon  on  the  war- 
path. The  campaign  was  brief,  bloody  and  brilliant,  and  pro- 
ductive of  a  bountiful  supply  of  scalps. 

The  Apache  warriors,  accustomed  to  cope  with  the  unwieldy, 
half- starved,  ill-paid  and  poorly  armed  Mexican  troops,  whom, 
if  unable  to  whip,  they  could  always  elude  by  their  celerity  of 
movement,  were  taken  completely  by  surprise  by  this  new  foe, 
who  carried  a  pair  of  six-shooting  pistols  of  that  terrible  old 
Texas  pattern  in  their  holsters,  and  a  navy  at  their  belt,  their 
only  arms,  except  the  bowie.  Well  mounted,  thoroughly  trained 
in  the  arts  of  Indian  warfare,  of  such  esprit  du  corps  as  led 
every  man  to  do  his  utmost  to  excel  his  comrades  in  the  carni- 
val of  blood,  Glanton  and  his  Rangers  made  an  easy  campaign 
and  a  brilliant  success. 

Returning  to  Chihuahua  they  were  publicly  received  at  the 
Governor's  palace,  marched  under  triumphal  arches,  delivered 
their  scalps  to  the  government  agent,  received  two  doubloons 
for  each  scalp,  were  feasted,  feted  and  made  the  lions  of  the 
town  in  that  gay  Mexican  capital.  Fandangos,  gambling  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  269 

carousing  succeeded  for  the  month  following,  and  the  restive 
Hangers  were  ready  for  another  campaign.  So  confident  had 
the  authorities  become  that  they  gratuitously  furnished  sup- 
plies for  the  second  campaign,  and  the  scalp-hunters  were  again 
on  the  war-path.  This  second  campaign  was  more  brief  and 
productive  than  the  first,  and  the  good  citizens  of  Chihuahua 
congratulated  themselves,  leturned  thanks  to  the  saints,  feasted 
the  Rangers,  and  believed  the  period  for  exterminating  los 
barbaros  had  finally  come.  Shortly  after  the  second  campaign 
it  was  whispered  around  that  Mexican  rancheros  had  been 
killed  and  scalped  by  foes  other  than  the  Apaches.  Matters 
became  dangerously  suspicious,  and  the  Rangers  were  on  the 
alert. 

The  trouble  with  the  authorities  of  Chihuahua  was  the  diffi- 
culty of  distinguishing  between  the  scalp  of  an  Apache  and 
that  of  a  Mexican.  The  Rangers  who  remembered  the  Alamo, 
Goliad,  and  other  places  of  Mexican  outrage  and  blood,  hated 
the  Mexican  more  than  they  did  the  Apache,  and,  as  with 
them,  it  was  a  question  of  dollars  and  cents,  and  not  of  either 
love  or  patriotism,  had  found  it  more  convenient  and  less 
hazardous  to  raise  the  hair  of  a  Mexican  than  that  of  an 
Apache,  and  such  was  the  product  of  the  second  campaign. 

The  Mexicans  are  a  gentle  people,  and  have  more  virtue 
than  the  "Barbaras  del  Norte," — which  means  us  blue-blooded 
Americans — ever  gave  them  credit  for.  They  are  not  an  excit- 
able people,  and  as  a  people  are  hard  to  raise ;  but  when  once 
raised,  as  they  were  on  the  memorable  cinco  de  Mayo,  they 
are  more  irresistible  than  the  hurricane  or  the  piercing  norther 
that  sweeps  their  favored  land.  Once  raised  they  are  a  fury. 
As  a  people  they  were  not  raised  against  the  American  inva- 
sion of  1846.  As  a  people  they  were  raised  against  the  French 
and  Austrians  in  '61 -'67,  and  astonished  the  world  with  their 
deeds  of  devotion  and  of  heroism. 

When    Glanton   and   his    Rangers    heard    the   murmur  of 


270  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGEH. 

the  coming  storm,  they,  dissembling  innocence,  prepared  to 
escape  it  and  flee  the  wrath  to  come,  that  is  to  say  they  quietly, 
and  in  the  hour  when  honest  people  seek  their  pillow  and 
thieves  do  go  abroad,  saddled  their  well-fed  chargers  and  cut 
stick  for  the  shores  of  the  western  ocean. 

Pursuit  was  organized,  but  too  late ;  the  bloody  scalpers  had 
escaped.  They  had  secured  safety  by  their  well-timed  depart- 
ure and  the  fleetness  of  their  horses. 

The  next  we  hear  of  Glanton  and  his  desperate  band  is  at 
the  mining  town  of  Jesus  Maria,  in  the  northeastern  part  of 
Sonora,  where  Messrs.  W.  T.  B.  Sanford,  afterward  of  Los 
Angeles,  and  Frank  Carroll,  he  who  kept  the  whisky  mill  in 
the  priest's  cottage  residence  at  S.m  Gabriel,  were  the  only 
American  traders.  The  Glanton  party  held  high  carnival 
during  their  short  tarry  at  this  obscure  Mexican  village,  which 
the  simple  minded  poblanos  bore  with  their  usual  patience 
until  Glanton  perpetrated  the  last  outrage,  which  raised  a 
second  storm,  from  which  the  festive  fellows  were  again  glad  to 
escape  by  taking  to  their  heels  and  plying  spur.  John  Glanton 
rode  into  the  quartel,  hauled  down  the  Mexican  flag,  tied  it  to 
a  mule's  tail,  lashed  the  mule  into  fury  and  turned  it  loose  in 
the  town.  The  Rangers  escaped  the  fury  of  the  outraged 
populace,  so  did  Sanford  and  Carroll;  but  the  two  latter 
escaped  on  foot,  leaving  behind  them,  to  the  fury  of  the  mob, 
their  stores,  accumulations  of  hard  years  of  toil  and  danger, 
and  barely  got  away  with  their  lives.  Arriving  at  Tucson,  the 
Rangers  found  the  place  besieged  by  the  renowned  Apache 
chief,  Mangas  Colorado,  the  place  being  defended  by  a  handful 
of  frightened  Mexican  soldiers,  a  few  old  men  and  the  boys, 
the  able-bodied  men  having  gone  in  a  body  to  the  new  Ml 
Dorado  in  California. 

The  Rangers  rode  through  the  Apaches  into  the  beleaguered 
town  and  joined  its  frightened  defenders.  Mangas  Colouuli. 
then  sounded  a  parley,  and  with  seveial  of  his  chiefs  met 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  271 

Glanton  under  some  cotton-wood  trees,  at  the  little  cienega 
east  of,  and  just  outside  the  town. 

The  great  chief — and  the  Apaches  never  had  a  greater  than 
Mangas — expressed  his  surprise  at  the  Americans  assisting 
their  enemies,  the  Mexicans,  and  fighing  against  those  whom 
they  should  treat  as  friends  and  allies.  Glanton,  however, 
informed  him  that  Americans  always  defended  the  weak,  and 
that  unless  the  arrogant  chief  and  his  barbarous  horde  should 
depart  before  sunrise  the  following  day,  the  Americans  would 
turn  loose  their  "saddles"  on  them,  meaning  in  the  expressive 
Apache  dialect  their  holster  pistols,  a  something  the  Mexican 
cavalry  never  carried.  Mangas  said  he  would  not  fight  his 
amigos,  the  Americans,  but  proposed  that  if  permitted  to 
slaughter  seven  bullocks  to  be  furnished  by  the  Mexicans,  and 
feast  his  warriors  thereon,  in  the  Plaza  of  Tucson,  and  to  drink 
mescal  himself  with  the  American  chief,  while  his  warriors 
were  so  feasting  he  would  depart  in  peace.  He  said  he  did  all 
he  could  to  restrain  his  braves  from  killing  Mexicans,  as  a 
general  thing,  as  contrary  to  his  policy;  "For,"  said  he,  "if 
we  kill  off  the  Mexicans,  who  will  raise  cattle  and  horses  for 
us  ? "  The  proposed  plan  was  agreed  to  and  the  programme 
carried  out  to  the  letter,  the  Rangers  preserving  an  armed 
neutrality  in  the  meantime,  after  which  Mangas  Colorado, 
which  means  Red  Mantle,  quietly  withdrew  his  barbarians  and 
departed.  Then  came  another  carnival  of  joy.  The  grateful 
Tucsonians  plied  the  Rangers  with  every  comfort  and  delicacy 
that  their  poor  town  afforded,  refused  them  nothing,  and  the 
old  men  wept  and  the  women  wailed  when  their  chivalric 
deliverers  departed.  This  was  the  last  act  of  American  man- 
hood performed  by  that  brave  band  of  abandoned  men. 

Arriving  at  Yuma,  they  found  a^'solitary  American,  who 
kept  a  ferry-boat,  and  an  immense  number  of  Indians,  camped 
at  and  near  the  crossing.  The  poor  ferryman,  after  crossing 


272  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

the  party  over,  was  murdered  by  some  of  the  band,  because  he 
persisted  in  his  denial  of  having  aguardiente  or  mescal. 

Dave  and  Charley  Brown,  the  two  survivors  of  Glanton's 
band,  informed  the  chronicler  of  the  termination  of  this  bloody 
ride.  The  party  camped  on  a  grassy  flat  on  the  west  side  of 
the  river,  just  below  the  crossing,  and  quietly  passed  the  night. 
Early  in  the  morning  the  camp  was  astir  preparatory  to  resum- 
ing their  line  of  march  over  the  great  desert. 

The  two  Browns  had,  at  early  dawn,  gone  to  the  ferry-boat 
with  camp-kettles  to  procure  water  with  which  to  cook  break- 
fast. While  they  were  at  the  river  the  Ranger's  camp  was 
secretly  surrounded  by  the  Yurua  Indians,  under  old  Pasqual, 
a  venerated  chief  of  to-day,  who,  to  avenge  the  murder  of  their 
friend,  the  ferryman,  massacred  the  whole  party,  save  only 
Dave  and  Charley,  as  before  stated.  When  the  camp  was  at- 
tacked they,  with  well-timed  judgment,  quietly  boarded  the 
ferry-boat,  shoved  into  the  stream,  and  floated  down  the  river 
wholly  unobserved  by  the  Indians,  who  supposed  they  had 
killed  the  whole  party.  After  descending  the  stream  a  few 
miles,  the  two  survivors  landed,  filled  their  camp-kettles  with 
water,  and  started  westward  across  the  desert,  and  after  un- 
paralleled suffering  arrived  at  San  Diego,  in  a  condition  little 
better  than  walking  skeletons  ;  and  such  is  the  history  of  John 
Glanton  and  his  Chihuahua  scalp-hunters,  and  such  was  their 
deplorable  end. 

The  two  Browns  were  not  of  kin,  Dave  being  a  red-headed, 
good-natured  American,  while  Charley  was  a  quarter-blood 
Cherokee.  Dave  was  hung  at  Los  Angeles  in  1854,  by  an 
irate  mob  of  California  Mexicans,  most  of  whom  were  his 
personal  friends,  and  hung  him  only  in  vindication  of  principle. 
That  is  to  say,  the  Americans  of  the  Angel  city  were  in  the 
habit  of  amusing  themselves  by  hanging  some  luckless  Mexi- 
can, and  the  Mexicans  wished  to  show  that  they  could  play  at 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  273 

the  same  game,  and  so  seized  on  poor  Dave  as  a  fit  subject  for 
demonstration,  apologized  for  the  liberty  they  were  taking  with 
him,  which  Dave  laughingly  accepted,  and  was  then  swung  up. 
Dave  had  always  lived  the  life  of  an  unprincipled  fellow,  he 
died  in  vindication  of  a  principle,  that  is,  to  show  that  the 
native  Californians  knew  how  to  hang  a  man  in  the  most 
approved  gringo  fashion. 

The  other  Brown  also  fell  a  victim  to  principle.  He  went  to 
Nicaragua  under  the  banner  of  manifest  destiny,  and  died  in 
vindication  of  the  principles  thereof. 

Poor  Dave  set  a  most  beautiful  example  to  the  young  people 
who  witnessed  his  interesting  taking  off.  He  said  he  had  com- 
mitted a  great  many  crimes,  but  not  of  sufficient  magnitude  to 
deserve  hanging.  The  only  great  crime  he  had  ever  seriously 
contemplated  was  running  for  Councilman  of  our  pure  and 
lovely  municipality,  and  should  he  have  done  so,  and  been 
elected,  and  have  served,  then  "I  would  have  felt  that  I  deserved 
death  ;"  but  fortunately,  said  Dave,  in  going  into  the  presence 
of  the  great  Judge,  I  can  at  least  claim  that  I  was  never  either 
Mayor,  or  member  of  the  Los  Angeles  City  Council.  Alas!  poor 
Dave,  his  crimes  were  many,  but  these  last  mentioned  were  not 
charged  up  against  him  in  the  "kingdom  come." 

Some  years  ago  the  writer  was  in  San  Antonio,  where  he 
frequently  met  a  pale,  sorrowful-looking,  elderly  lady,  accom- 
panied by  a  younger  one,  the  latter  very  beautiful,  both  in  deep 
mourning,  one  the  widow,  the  other  the  daughter  of  the  reckless 
Olanton,  the  Chihuahua  scalp-hunter. 


18 


274  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

McFarlaud — The  Election  of  '53 — Jurupa — Agua  Mansa  Again  —  Sharp 
Skirmishing  for  Votes— Rubideaux — "Can  a  Nigger  Vole  in  Califor- 
nia?"— He  Votes — The  Mormon  Stockade — Bishop  Crosby's  Hotel — 
Cook — One  Vote  for  \Valdo-Quile  a  Skirmish — Alcalde  Brown — Mor- 
mon Justice — Pegleg  Smith — His  Camp  in  the  Rocky  Mountains— He 
Goes  to  the  Spanish  Country  for  Horses — Raid  on  Los  Angeles  Ranches 
:— Jim  Beckworth — The  Gringos  Block  the  Game. 


ONE  of  the  early  chapters  of  these  most  reliable 
reminiscences  mention  was  made  of  McFarland  and  his 
connection  with  J.  G.  Downey  in  the  drug  store,  then 
the  only  one  in  the  Angel  city,  and  as  I  have  a  story  to  tell 
in  which  Mac  played  a  part,  it  will  be  in  place  to  inform 
the  reader  who  and  what  our  present  hero  was.  Doctor  J.  P. 
McFarland  came  from  Tennessee  in  '49,  and  after  one  year 
of  roughing  in  the  mines,  came  here  and  formed  a  partnership 
with  John  G.  Downey  (the  honored  ex-Governor  of  Califor- 
nia), who  had  preceded  him  by  a  half  year  or  more.  McFar- 
land was  a  graduate  of  Jefferson  College,  a  perfect  specimen 
of  the  American  backwoods  gentleman  in  physical  appearance, 
manners  and  general  get  up  ;  in  fact  what  we  call  a  first  rate 
fellow,  and  a  politician  withal.  In  '52  we  sent  Mac  to  our 
ambulatory  capital  as  Representative,  and  in  '53  we  promoted 
him  to  the  high  dignity  of  Senator,  and  he  might  have  gone 
higher  but  for  having  introduced  a  bill  that  would  have  been 
productive  of  much  good,  and  was  in  reality  a  step  in  the 
right  direction,  notwithstanding  it  was  a  rear  step  in  our 
onward  march  of  civilization.  As  before  stated,  in  the  years 
referred  to  there  were  thousands  of  Mission  Indians  in  South- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  275 

era  California  who  stood  in  the  ante-room  of  ruin.  To  save 
them,  and  to  make  them  useful  to  the  country,  in  place  of 
becoming  vagrants,  McFarland  introduced  a  bill  in  the  Senate 
to  have  all  the  young  Indians  apprenticed,  the  boys  until  they 
were  twenty-one  and  the  girls  eighteen  years  of  age.  The  bill  in 
its  general  provisions  was  substantially  the  same  as  the  present 
law  of  apprentices,  but  unfortunately  for  the  bill  and  its 
author  it  contained  the  word  Indian,  when  lo !  a  torrent  of 
newspaper  wrath  was  hurled  at  the  bill  and  showered  on  the 
head  of  poor  Mac,  which  made  him  feel  that  the  most  unfor- 
tunate day  of  his  life  was  that  which  made  him  a  Senator. 
"McFarland's  peon  bill,"  so  designated,  was  made  to  appear 
'•'the  most  glaring,  bare-faced  and  outrageous  attempt  ta 
engraft  the  barbarous  peon  laws  of  Mexico  on  our  free  insti- 
tutions." Mac  served  his  time  out  in  the  Senate,  came  home 
and  attended  to  his  private  business.  The  Indians,  boys  and 
girls,  became  vagabonds  and  our  free  institutions  and  John 
Brown's  soul  go  marching  on  and  McFarland  is  an  honored 
and  wealthy  resident  of  his  native  State,  and  if  not  reminded 
by  these  reminiscences  of  the  fate  of  the  Mission  Indians,  may 
have  forgotten  all  about  them. 

In  '53,  when  Mac  was  a  candidate,  and  when  Los  Angeles 
county  included  San  Bernardino,  he  invited  the  author  to  ac- 
company him  to  Jurupa,  Agua  Mansa  and  San  Bernardino  on 
an  electioneering  tour,  which  said  invitation  being  duly 
accepted,  the  two  of  us,  well  mounted,  set  out,  making  the 
hospitable  house  of  Col.  Williams,  at  Chino,  our  first  stopping- 
place.  From  thence  we  proceeded  to  Jurupa,  where  we  arrived 
the  day  preceding  the  election.  Then  it  was  that  Mac  informed 
me  that  he  had  a  little  precinct  staked  out  that  required  hi& 
personal  attendance  ;  that  the  *'  most  useful  man,"  having  so 
admirably  succeeded  at  the  presidential  election  of  the  preced- 
ing year,  he  felt  the  precinct  well  worthy  of  his  individual 
attention,  and  that  he  had  conciliated  old  Louis  Rubideauxr 


276  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

and  depended  on  me  to  enlist  Lieut.  Smith,  of  the  Jurupa 
military  post,  to  go .  with  me  to  look  out  for  his  interests  in 
the  then  Mormon  stockade  camp  at  San  Bernardino.  With 
these  dispositions  we  retired  for  the  night,  and  went  to  sleep 
listening  to  a  lecture  from  Rubideaux  on  his  Anglo-Norman 
ancestry,  their  domiciliation  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
exploits  of  mountain  men  in  Indian  righting,  of  Bridger,  of 
Carson,  G-odey,  Sublettes,  of  Jim  Beckworth,  and  of  Pegleg 
Smith.  I  may,  in  the  course  of  this  history,  repeat  what  I 
remember  of  the  Anglo-Norman-Rocky-Mountain-American 
lecture,  and  the  part  of  it  referring  to  old  Pegleg  in  particular, 
for  the  reason  that  I  had  three  years  theretofore  the  distin- 
'guished  honor  of  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  the  renowned 
Pegleg  in  his  Rocky  Mountain  camp.  When  old  Louis  finished 
his  lecture,  his  bottle  and  pipe  I  never  knew,  but  morning 
came,  and  with  it  election  day,  and  in  due  time  the  Senatorial 
aspirant,  Lieut  Smith,  and  myself,  with  prancing  steeds  and 
gingling  spurs,  clattered  into  the  plaza  of  Agua  Mansa,  where 
the  polls  had  already  been  opened,  but  as  yet  voting  had  not 
commenced.  Mac's  opponent  was  alive  as  to  the  Agua  Mansa 
vote,  and  had  his  emissaries  on  the  field,  and  the  level-headed 
McFarland  saw  at  a  glance  that  whatever  vantage  he  gained 
would  be  at  the  price  of  hard  fighting.  Friar  Juan,  learning 
wisdom  from  his  experience  with  the  "most  useful  man," 
declined  expressing  his  preference  for  either  Bigler,  the  Demo- 
cratic candidate  for  Governor,  or  for  Waldo,  his  Whig  oppo- 
nent. Neither  would  he  favor  my  Senatorial  friend  ;  in  fact, 
like  the  shoemaker  when  called  on  to  become  a  candidate  for  a 
seat  in  the  House  of  Commons,  said  he  thought  he  had  better 
let  politics  alone,  and  "  stick  to  his  last."  So  hastily  dispatch- 
ing a  courier  to  hurry  up  Don  Louis,  McFarland  and  his  hench- 
men commenced  skirmishing  for  votes,  his  opponents  .in  like 
manner  being  out  in  full  force,  horse,  foot  and  quartermaster's 
men.  The  skirmish  lines  soon  became  engaged,  and  such  a 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER.  277 

scramble  for  votes,  or  for  anything  else,  was  never  before  known 
in  that  veritable  Arcadia.  Drowsy  Dons  were  aroused  from 
their  morning  slumbers,  and  given  to  understand  that  unless 
they  hurried  to  the  polls  and  voted,  their  liberty  and  religion 
would  not  only  be  jeopardized,  but  would  certainly  be  lost. 
Laborers  up  to  their  knees  in  water,  irrigating  garden  and  field, 
would  be  captured  and  brought  up  with  round  turns,  and  in- 
formed that  it  was  a  serious  offence  against  the  new  dispensa- 
tion to  fail  to  vote  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  porques  and  quien 
sales,  Agon  Mansa,  in  the  matter  of  patriotic  voting,  outdid 
herself,  more  votes  being  polled  in  that  superlatively  honest 
town  than  the  whole  number  of  the  population,  men,  women 
and  children. 

At  about  seven  or  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  contest 
opened  at  the  polls  that  threatened,  at  one  time,  serious  compli- 
cations .  McFarland  and  myself  were  standing  near  by,  when 
Lieutenant  Smith  called  out  to  McFarland,  "  Say,  Mac;  can  a 
nigger  vote  in  California?"  "  No,  certainly  not,"  was  the 
quick  response.  "All  right,"  said  Smith,  "I've  challenged 
this  fellow's  vote."  Then  Mac  bethinking  himself  that  possibly 
in  his  hasty,  hot  Southern  blood  he  had,  may  be,  lost  a  vote, 
said  to  me,  "  B'ell,  go  quick,  and  in  some  way  or  other  see  who 
he  is  voting  for."  So,  by  a  dexterous  manoeuvre  I  succeeded 
in  taking  the  colored  patriot  to  one  side  and  discovered  that  he 
was  voting  for  McFarland,  so  informing  him  that  it  was  "  all 
right,"  Mac  came  to  the  front  and  told  Smith  that  on  second 
thought  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  California  being  a 
free  State  he  thought  colored  persons  entitled  to  the  elective 
franchise,  and  thought  the  challenge  should  be  withdrawn. 
"No,"  Smith  said,  "I  am  a  Virginian,  sir,  and  I  have  voted, 
sir,  at  this  polls,  sir.  and  I  would  rather  die,  sir.  than  to  vote, 
sir,  at  the  same  polls,  sir,  with  a  nigger,  sir.  If  I  hadn't  voted, 
sir,  it  would  be  all  right,  sir;  but  as  it  is;  sir,  I'll  be  d — d,  sir, 
if  this  nigger  shall  vote,  sir."  Here  was  a  dilemma  for  poor 


278  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Mac;  the  nigger  had  his  name  on  his  ticket,  and  that  vote  must 
he  polled  at  whatever  cost.  On  the  other  hand  Lieutenant 
Smith  was  working-  for  Mac,  and  was  held  in  high  esteem  in 
San  Bernardino  by  Lyinan,  Rich,  and  John  Brown  the  Alcalde, 
the  leading  men  of  the  settlement,  so  it  would  not  do  to  offend 
Smith.  So  having  arranged  that  the  challenge  should  stand  in 
abeyance  for  awhile,  Smith,  myself  and  Mac  adjourned  to  old 
Truxillo's  casa  where  the  sefiora  had,  by  this  time  and  by  pre- 
arrangement,  prepared  a  most  inviting  breakfast,  and  I  do  say 
and  will  ever  maintain  that  in  getting  up  substantial,  appetiz- 
ing breakfasts  the  Mexican  women  are  superlative.  Smith 
was  a  ladies'  man  as  well  as  a  warrior,  spoke  Spanish  quite  well, 
and  soon  became  involved  in  pleasant  converse  with  the  seiiori- 
tas  then  and  there  being,  and  with  all  dispatch  Mac  and  I  dis- 
patched our  breakfast,  and  leaving  Smith  we  hied  ourselves  to 
the  polling  place.  "  Now  we'll  vote  our  nigger  without  Smith 
knowing  it,"  said  Mac.  On  our  arrival  Mac  addressed  himself 
to  the  man  of  color,  when  it  was  found  that  he  could  not  speak 
one  word  of  English.  "  Why,''  said  Mac.  "  this  man  is  not  a 
nigger,  he  is  a  Mexican,  and  of  course  entitled  to  the  elective 
franchise."  The  man  of  color  referred  to  was  about  six  feet 
high,  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  as  black  as  a  polished  boot, 
with  hair  peculiarly  kinky.  He  was  elegantly  dressed  in 
extreme  ranchero  style,  and  was  in  all  reality  a  decent-looking, 
well-mannered  man.  Now  the  question  of  his  voting  was 
brought  up,  and  the  judges  who  were  all  Mexicans,  with  a 
borrowed  Quartermaster's-man  for  clerk,  were  requested  by 
Mac  to  enquire  of  his  birth,  nationality  and  previous  condition. 
He  answered  that  he  was  a  Mexican,  had  always  been  a 
Mexican,  that  his  mother  was  a  Mexican,  that  his  father  was  a 
— quien  sabe?  he  could  say  positively  that  when  the  gringos  got 
California  all  of  the  Mexicans  becatne  Americans,  and  of 
course  he  like  all  the  rest,  was  an  American,  and  as  such 
claimed  all  the  privileges,  that  of  voting  as  well;  that  he 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A  *RANGER.  279 

knew  the  law,  and  by  the  law  he  would  live  and  die;  he  said  he 
•was  a  patriot,  and  so  said  Mac — so  affirmed  the  judges,  and  to 
which  every  one  assented — and  the  man  of  color  voted,  and 
Smith  was  saved  the  mortification  of  knowing  it,  as  I  hurriedly 
returned  to  the  Truxillo  house,  and  tearing  Smith  away  we 
started  for  San  Bernardino,  arriving  before  noon  and  in  time  to 
get  a  good  dinner  at  Bishop  Crosby's  hotel.. 

We  found  at  San  Bernardino  such  interest  manifested  in  the 
election  as  amounted  almost  to  an  excitement,  and  at  dinner  I 
found  the  cause  thereof  to  be  that  William  Waldo,  the  Whig 
candidate  for  Governor,  was  reputed,  among  the  Mormons,  to 
have  belonged  to  the  Missouri  mob  that  murdered  Joe  Smith, 
and  a  bitter  aversion  to  him,  and  a  marked  preference  for  Bigler, 
was  the  general  theme  of  conversation.  I  ventured  to  remark 
that  they  were  mistaken,  that  I  understood  Waldo  was  not  a 
tc  Pike "  at  all,  and  that  he  was,  anyway,  sure  to  be  elected. 
"  He  will  not  get  a  vote  in  San  Bernardino,"  said  Cook,  one  of 
the  dinner-table  party.  "  He  is  sure  to  get  one  vote,"  said  I, 
"  for  I  will  go  straight  to  the  polls  and  vote  for  him,  as  soon  as 
I've  finished  my  dinner."  "  I'll  whip  you,  if  you  do,"  said 
Cook.  "  I  think  not,"  said  I,  and  my  partizan  blood  being 
up,  I  got  up  from  my  half-finished  dinner,  went  to  the  polls, 
and  cast  the  only  Whig  vote  polled  at  that  election  in  San 
Bernardino.  Getting  back  to  Bishop  Crosby's,  Smith  informed 
me  that  Cook,  who  was  an  ugly  fellow,  was  bent  on  having  a 
difficulty  with  me,  and  that  as  he  wished  to  have  a  little  repair- 
ing done  on  his  saddle,  we  would  go  to  the  saddler  shop  first,  and 
then  he  would  see  some  of  the  Mormon  officials,  and  have  the 
quarrelsome  Cook  put  under  restraint.  Accordingly  we  went 
to  the  saddler  shop,  which  had  two  rooms — one  a  front  room, 
where  the  work  was  exposed  for  sale,  and  a  rear  one  for  a  work- 
shop. Smith  went  into  the  rear  room  with  his  saddle,  and  I 
took  a  seat  in  the  front.  In  a  moment  in  come  Cook,  with  a  long, 
old  fashioned  rifle,  and,  half  raising  it,  angrily  said:  "  Did  you, 


280  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

sir,  vote  for  William  Waldo?"  addressing  me.  Those  who 
know  the  author,  never  accused  him  of  either  patience  or  inde- 
cision, so  my  answer  was  to  sieze  Cook's  gun,  wrest  it  from 
him  and  break  it  over  his  shoulder,  and  then  light  into  him  with 
the  barrel.  In  a  moment  Smith  and  the  saddler  were  promptly 
at  hand,  and  restored  peace,  and  Cook  took  his  departure,  and 
we  all  thought  the  affair  was  at  an  end.  Not  so,  however.  In 
a  short  time  Cook  returned  with  Cliff,  the  Mormon  Sheriff, 
who,  with  a  warrant  sworn  out  by  Cook,  arrested  and  carried 
me  before  Alcalde  Brown.  Now,  be  it  known  that  the  said 
Brown  was  an  old  mountaineer,  and,  like  all  of  that  class  of 
men,  was  full  of  a  generous  manhood,  love  of  fair  play,  and 
was,  withal,  a  high-toned,  honorable  man;  and  when  I  waa 
called  upon  to  explain  why  and  wherefore  Cook's  gun  had  been 
so  broken,  Smith,  the  saddler,  and  Bishop  Crosby  came  forward 
and  stated  the  case.  Whereupon  Alcalde  Brown  lectured  Cook 
severely  and  fined  him  $50,  for  having  been  in  the  first  place 
the  aggressor.  He  then  apologized,  in  behalf  of  the  people  of 
San  Bernardino,  and  said:  "Although,  young  man,  the  Mor- 
mons here  are,  to  a  man,  opposed  to  Waldo  in  this  election,  we 
are,  nevertheless,  American  citizens,  and  not  only  claim  the 
right  to  vote  as  we  see  fit,  but  to  maintain  that  right  in  behalf 
of  others  who  differ  from  us.  We  also  claim  to  be  a  hospitable 
people,  and  I  make  this  example  of  Cook  so  as  to  deter  others 
from  like  treatment  of  any  stranger  who  may  in  the  future 
visit  us."  I  afterward  became  well  acquainted  with  many  of 
our  Mormon  neighbors  and  was  on  several  raids  with  them, 
and  found  them  to  be  of  the  very  best  fellows  I  ever  had  any- 
thing to  do  with,  and  when  in  1859  the  majority  of  the  Mor- 
mon population  in  San  Bernardino  foolishly  obeyed  the  order 
of  Brigham  Young,  abandoned  their  homes  and  returned  to 
Salt  Lake,  Southern  California  lost  the  most  active,  energetic 
and  enterprising  part  of  the  population  contained  within  our 
borders.  I  have  a  very  pleasant  recollection  of  the  early  Mor- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  281 

mon  settlers  of  our  beautiful  southern  sister.  When  the  vote 
was  counted  in  San  Bernardino  it  was  found  that  Waldo  had 
received  one  vote,  upon  which  President  Lyman,  who  was  pres-- 
ent,  laughingly  remarked,  "Well,  sure  enough,  Cook's  man 
voted  for  Waldo."  The  vote  was  duly  returned  and  I  relate  this 
reminiscence  only  to  show  the  fairness,  the  honesty  and  the 
generous  feeling  then  prevailing  among  our  Mormon  neighbors 
and  as  a  set-off  to  the  many  stories  told,  true  or  false,  of  their 
barbarous-like  doings  in  the  great  Mormon  capital1,  and  so1 
strangely  in  contrast  with  above  related.  The  result  of  that 
election  was  of  course  in  favor  of  "/,  John  Bigler"  McFarlancl 
carrying  the  two  counties  of  Los  Angeles  and  San  Diego  by  a 
very  handsome  majority,  was  triumphantly  elected  and  was  all! 
in  all  a  most  superior  man,  and  his  bill  concerning  our  Mission' 
Indian  boys  and  girls  was  one  of  the  most  beneficent  Indian 
measures  ever  proposed.  But  revolutions  never  go  backwards, 
and  Mac's  measure  and  the  way  it  was  received  so  disgusted 
him  with  politics  that  he  threw  up  the  business  entirely  and 
retired  to  the  cooling  shades  of  private  life. 

Pegleg  Smith  was  a  Rocky  Mountain  man  of  great  renown 
in  his  time,  and  ranked  high  as  a  leader,  not  of  that  high  type 
of  mountain  honor  and  chivalry  as  pertained  to  the  Sublettes,, 
Carson,  Bridger  and  others  of  that  standard  of  excellence,  but 
rather  of  the  Indian  freebooting  class,  as  Jim  Beckworth  and 
others  of  that  ilk  of  whom  I  have  heard,  but  whose  names  I 
cannot  now  recall.  Pegleg  was  not  a  trader,  neither  was  he 
in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word  a  trapper,  but  was  a  trafficker 
among  the  Indians  in  horses,  generally  having  a  large  supply 
on  hand,  and  would  at  any  time  join  a  war  party  of  one  tribe 
to  war  upon  another,  with  an  agreement  to  take  a  certain  pro- 
rata  of  the  captured  horses  in  payment  for  his  valuable  services. 
It  was  on  one  of  these  Rocky  Mountain  Indian  forays  that 
he  lost  his  leg,  which  was  amputated  below  the  knee  by  an 
Indian  surgeon,  under  the  direction  qf  Pegleg  himself,  the 


282  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

only  surgical  instruments  used  being  a  hunting  knife  and  a 
small  Indian  or  key-hole  saw.  The  loss  of  his  ambulatory  mem- 
ber did  not,  however,  incapacitate  this  hardy  hero  for  war  and 
raiding,  but  on  the  contrary  greatly  added  to  his  prestige,  and 
it  was,  I  think,  as  related  to  me  by  Colonel  Williams,  Rubi- 
deaux  and  others,  in  1839  or  '40,  that  he  planned  and  carried 
into  operation  the  grandest  and  most  successful  horse-stealing 
expedition  that  ever  crossed  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  raided 
Our  angel  land.  In,  1850  the  chronicler  hereof  in  crossing  the 
•continent  halted  at  Pegleg's  camp,  at  the  Soda  and  Steamboat 
Springs  on  Bear  river,  and  found  the  old  fellow  in  the  zenith 
of  happiness  and  prosperity.  He  was  in  the  undisputed  owner- 
ship of  hundreds  of  most  beautiful  Spanish  horses,  so  called  at 
the  time — in  this  history  designated  as  mustangs,  and  by  the 
:gringos  commonly  called  broncos.  Now  the  truth  is  that  a 
bottle  of  whisky  or  a  pound  of  powder  was  the  price  of  a 
ihorse  in  Pegleg's  camp,  and  notwithstanding  whisky  was  scarce 
and  powder  reasonably  plenty  among  westward  bound  gold- 
hunters,  Pegleg  found  ready  sale  for  as  many  horses  as  he 
could  spare,  anxl  himself,  his  squaws  and  his  Indian  retainers 
'kept  gloriously  drunk,  and  were  as  happy  as  braves'  are  sup- 
iposed  to  be  wh?n  they  reach  the  happy  hunting  grounds. 

In  answer  to  the  question  as  to  how  he  came  to  have  so 
"many  horses,  he  said,  "  Oh !  I  went  down  into  the  Spanish 
•country  and  got  them."  "What  did  they  cost  you  ?"  we  in- 
•quired.  "  They  cost  me  very  dearly,"  said  he.  "  Three  of  my 
squaws  lost  brothers,  and  one  of  them  a  father,  on  that  trip, 
and  I  came  near  going  under  myself.  I  lost  several  other 
braves,  and  you  can  depend  on  it  that  I  paid  for  all  the  horses 
1  drove  away.  Them  Spaniards  followed  us  and  fought  us  in  a 
way  that  Spaniards  were  never  before  known  to  do."  "How 
many  did  you  get  ?"  we  again  queried.  "  Only  about  3000  ; 
the  rascals  got  about  half  of  what  we  started  with  away  from 
Us,  d n  them.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  try  it  over,  but  then 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  283 

our  own  people  taking  the  country  broke  up  my  plans.  I 
never  make  war  on  my  own  people,  and  in  driving  off  Spanish 
horses  I  might  be  brought  in  contact  with  my  own  country- 
men, and  you  know  that  would  not  by  any  manner  of  means 
do." 

According  to  Rubideaux,  a  half-dozen  white  men  and  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  Indians  took  the  war-path  on  this  grand 
expedition  of  Pegleg  to  the  "Spanish  country,"  Jim  Beck- 
worth  having  preceded  the  party  as  a  spy.  According  to 
Colonel  Williams,  Jim,  who  was  a  mulatto,  came  in  and  made 
his  headquarters  at  his  (Chino)  ranch,  and  pretending  that  he 
was  going  to  remain  in  the  country  and  try  his  hand  at  killing 
sea  otter,  then  a  most  profitable  business,  Jini  spied  out  the 
land,  and  when  Pegleg  appeared  in  the  Cajon  Pass  was  ready 
at  hand  to  counsel,  guide  and  assist  him.  The  raid  was  rapid 
and  successful.  Every  ranch  south  of  the  Santa  Ana  to  San 
Juan  was  visited,  and  the  best  horses  and  mares  driven  away, 
and  before  the  rancheros  could  collect  in  sufficient  force  to 
pursue,  the  raiders  had  re-entered  the  Cajon.  The  pursuit 
was,  however,  made,  and  so  vigorously  that  the  raiders  were 
overtaken,  roughly  handled,  and  with  the  result  as  above 
stated  by  the  renowned  Pegleg  himself.  This  foray  was  un- 
doubtedly well  planned,  and  was  only  preliminary  to  others  to 
follow  of  a  still  more  formidable  character,  which  were  pre- 
vented by  the  country  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  great  gringo 
nation.  Pegleg,  however,  had  made  a  previous  grand  haul  of 
horses  in  Los  Angeles  Valley,  in  1835. 


284  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Ranchero  Life — Fiestas — Military  Execution — Rancho  San  Pedro— Don 
Manuel  Dorainguez — A  Dignitary — Rancho  del  Chino— Colonel  Isaac 
Williams — His  Noble  Generosity — Rancho  San  Joaquin — A  Grand 
Rodea— Don  Jose*  Sepulveda— A  Forty-two  Mile  Race — William 
Wolfskill. 


author  ventures  the  assertion,  and  without  the  fear 
of  contradiction,  that  no  country  since  the  days  of  the 
Biblical  patriarchs  presented  such  scenes  of  pastural 
beauty,  general  prosperity  and  Arcadian  happiness  as  did  Cali- 
fornia before  the  discovery  of  gold  in  '48.  If  I  am.  correct, 
before  the  coming  of  the  gringo  in  '46,  the  Mexican  province  of 
California  contained  a  population  of  30,000  inhabitants,  not 
counting  the  Indians.  This  population  extended  along  the 
coast  from  San  Diego  to  Sonoma,  a  distance  of  say  600  miles. 
There  being  only  a  few  towns,  San  Diego  being  first,  then  Los 
Angeles,  Santa  Barbara,  San  Luis  Obispo,  Monterey',  Santa 
.Cruz,  San  Jose,  Yerba  Buena,  and  last  of  all  going  north, 
Sonoma.  Los  Angeles  was  the  largest,  containing  a  popu- 
lation of  about  2000.  Next  came  Santa  Barbara  and  Mon- 
terey, mere  villages.  Now  it  is  quite  easy  for  the  reader 
to  perceive  that  the  major  part  of  the  population  dwelt  on 
the  ranches.  These  ranchos  ranged  in  siz  efrom  one  to  eleven 
leagues — that  is,  in  round  numbers  from  five  thousand  to 
fifty  thousand  acres;  the  owner  of  each  rancho  possessing  from 
one  thousand  to  ten  thousand  head  of  horned  cattle,  and 
from  one  or  two  hundred  to  three  thousand  or  four  thousand 
head  of  horses,  broken  and  bronco.  The  country,  even  when 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  285 

the  value  of  a  bullock  was  his  hide,  tallow  and  horns,  was 
prosperous,  and  money  plenty.  The  rancheros  dressed  well, 
were  well  housed,  and  had  an  abundance  of  store — home  pro- 
duce and  of  foreign  importation. 

Having  heretofore  described  a  California  adobe  house,  a  rep- 
etition "thereof  will  not  now  be  necessary.  The  hospitality  of 
the  California  rancheros  was  a  proverb.  A  person,  though  he 
may  have  been  a  stranger,  or  to  the  country  born,  could  start 
from  San  Diego  and  journey  to  Sonoma  without  its  costing 
him  a  dollar,  and  be  furnished  with  a  fresh  horse  at  every 
rancho,  leaving  instead  the  one  of  the  previous  day's  ride. 
Such  a  thing  as  charging  a  traveler  for  what  he  received  would 
have  been  considered  an  act  of  excessive  meanness.  The  social 
intercourse  and  amusements  of  these  isolated  people  were  in 
keeping  with  their  situation.  Religious  fiestas  were  celebrated 
at  the  pueblos  and  Missions  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony, 
and  afforded  a  pleasant  recreation  and  relief  from  the  monotony 
of  ranch  life.  When  the  daughter  of  a  ranchero  married,  the 
family  either  gave  a  grand  fiesta  at  the  rancho  or  a  baile  at  the 
pueblo  or  Mission,  to  which  the  whole  country  were  invited, 
except  the  lower  classes,  and  to  which  the  people  came  some- 
times from  a  distance  of  forty  leagues  or  more,  families  travel- 
ing in  their  elaborately  fixed  up  carretas,  and  the  beaux  trans- 
porting the  belles  before  them  on  their  elegant  saddles,  the 
beau  occupying  a  seat  on  the  croup  with  his  bridle  arm  rest- 
ing on  the  shoulder  of  his  fair  passenger,  or  encircling  her 
slender  waist.  While  the  families  were  absent  on  these  social 
expeditions  nothing  would  go  amiss  on  the  ranches,  the  major- 
•  domo  and  the  Indian  vaqueros  would  look  out  for  the  herds  as 
though  the  patron  were  present;  the  grass  would  grow  and  the 
cattle  would  thrive  and  multiply.  These  marriage  feasts 
would  be  of  three  or  four  days'  duration.  Dancing  at  night 
and  horse-racing  during  the  day,  and  generally  winding  up 
with  bull-fighting.  The  religious  feasts  celebrated  at  the 


286  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

churches  were  brilliant,  pompous,  expensive  and  imposing,  the 
most  important  of  which  were  the  feast  of  the  Holy  Week, 
Corpus  Christi  and  St.  John's  Day,  the  latter  being  devoted  to 
cock-fighting  and  kindred  amusements,  .one  of  which  was  to 
take  a  live  cock  and  after  plucking  the  feathers  from  and 
thoroughly  greasing  his  neck,  his  body  would  be  buried  iu 
the  middle  of  the  street  or  road,  the  greased  neck  alone 
being  exposed  above  the  ground.  Now  the  .game  was  to 
dash  past  the  buried  cock  at  full  speed  on  horseback,  and 
lean  over  and  seize  the  neck  and  pull  the  cock  from  the 
ground — a  most  difficult  performance.  On  St.  John's  Day, 
in  '53,  General  Andres  Pico,  Jack  Powers  and  Don  Jose 
Sepulveda  were  the  principal  contestants  in  this  exciting  sport, 
Sepulveda  being  the  victor  of  a  well-contested  day.  The 
feast  of  Corpus  Christi  was  one  of  peculiar  religious  observance, 
one  of  processions,  parades  and  displays.  The  feast  of  the 
Holy  Week  always  ended  with  a  tragedy  on  the  Saturday  of 
Glory,  in  the  annual  execution  of  that  eminent  traitor,  Judas 
Iscariot,  which  was  done  by  first  erecting  a  gibbet,  then  an 
effigy  of  Judas  was  brought  forth  from  an  imaginary  prison, 
was  mounted  on  a  cart,  with  his  arms  pinioned,  and  being 
guarded  by  a  file  of  soldiers,  was  drawn  around  the  plaza  and 
principal  streets,  followed  by  the  excited  crowd,  hooted  at, 
insulted  and  pelted  by  the  boys  and  others,  and  finally,  in  a 
most  dilapidated  and  disgraceful  condition,  was  halted  in  front 
of  the  gibbet.  Now  an  orator  from  the  crowd  comes  forward 
and  delivers  a  solemn  lecture  to  Judas,  and  gi^es  him  fits, 
makes  his  bow  and  retires,  and  is  succeeded  by  another  orator, 
who  gives  Judas  another  berating,  and  accuses  him  of  crimes  so 
contemptible  and  manifold,  that,  as  an  impartial  judge  one  feels 
constrained  to  take  sides  with  the  old  sinner,  and  declare  one's 
utter  unbelief  in  those  divers  and  many  crimes  charged  against 
him — such,  for  instance,  as  "robbing  hen-roosts,  of  stealing  old 
clothes,  of  dealing  cards  unfairly  in  the  national  game  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  287" 

monte,  of  being  a  cheat,  a  vagabond,  a  Jew,  and  worst  of  all,  a 
gringo."  Poor  old  Judas  stands  this  without  a  word  of  denial, 
and  by  standing  mute  is  deemed  to  have  pleaded  guilty,  is 
taken  from  the  cart,  raised  to  and  bound  on  the  gibbet.  The 
crowd  again  commence  to  insult  and  pelt  him,  all  of  which  old 
Judas  endures  without  a  word  of  remonstrance  ;  stands  like  a 
martyr.  The  tragedy  is  about  to  end  as  the  shades  of  eve 
begin  to  fall  upon  the  scene. 

Now  we  hear  the  strains  of  martial  music,  the  solemn 
tap  of  the  drum,  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  military  feet  as  a 
platoon  of  infantry  file  into  line  and  halt  in  front  of  the 
doomed  traitor.  Now  the  judgment  of  the  courjfc  is  read  and 
the  death  warrant  recited,  and  Judas  is  given  an  opportunity 
to  speak  for  himself,  but  remains  as  mute  as  a  dead  mutton, 
which  is  taken  as  an  acknowledgement  that  the  judgment  is 
just,  and  that  he  ought  to  die.  Now  the  military  commander 
orders  his  men  to  "load!  shoulder  arms !  ready!  aim!  fire!" 
and  poor  Judas  for  the  eighteen-hundredth  time  or  more  suffers 
a  public  execution.  The  volley  riddles  him.  Then  "  load  and 
fire  at  will,"  and  the  soldiers  take  huge  delight  in  firing  at 
Judas  until  there  is  not  a  piece  of  him  left  large  enough  for  a 
cigar  wrapper.  In  the  meantime  the  band  plays,  the  crowd 
yell  and  hoot  in  triumphant  glee,  and  Judas  is  sent  to  the- 
devil  until  Saturday  the  year  coming,  when  he  is  again  disposed 
of  in  the  same  way. 

After  the  gringo  nation  had  nailed  its  flag  to  the  mast  in 
this  angel  land,  the  ceremonies  attending  the  annual  execution 
of  Judas  became  less  inspiriting  and  satisfactory,  because  of 
there  being  no  military  to  blow  the  old  traitor  into  the  next 
year.  Happily,  in  1854,  one  W.  W.  Twist,  he  who  had  been 
Sheriff  of  Santa  Barbara  and  got  so  worsted  in  his  tussle  with 
Jack  Powers,  raised  a  company  of  volunteer  infantry,  responded 
to  the  pious  call  of  Father  Anacleto,  marched  his  company  to 
the  plaza,  and  with  Uncle  Sam's  muskets  riddled  Judas  as 


;288  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    BANGER. 

•effectually,  as  well  and  as  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  con- 
cerned as  ever  did  the  Christian  soldiers  of  Spain  and  Mexico. 
'Twist  came  to  California  with  Stephenson's  regiment,  was  a 
natural-born  soldier,  was  an  American  by  birth  and  a  Mexican 
by  marriage  and  won  a  crown  immortal  in  being  the  first,  and 
possibly  the  last  man,  who  ever  used  the  arms  of  the  gringo 
government  in  so  pious  a  way.  Alas !  poor  Twist,  he  went  to 
.Sonora  and  ascended  thence  to  glory  on  the  emoke  of  a  Mexican 
revolution. 

Some  of  the  great  ranches  of  the  country  were  baronial  in 
-their  extent  and  surroundings.  Their  proprietors  being  great 
.dignitaries,  maintaining  large  numbers  of  vassals — for  such 
really  they  were,  mostly  Indians  who,  under  Mexican  major 
•domes,  did  all  of  the  labor  for  the  ranch.  The  chief  major 
.domo,  under  the  immediate  direction  of  the  patron,  had  entire 
supervision  of  the  business;  then  there  was  the  naajor  domo  de 
la  casa,  or  steward;  the  major  domo  del  campo  had  charge  of 
•the  vaqueros,  or  mounted  herders  in  the  field .;  the  major 
domo  de  las  caponeras  had  full  control  of  the  gentle  horses; 
the  major  domo  de  las  manadas  were  in  charge  of  thousands  of 
^wild  mares  and  their  foals,  and  attended  to  the  branding  of 
colts,  others  to  the  marking  and  branding  of  cattle.  There 
vwere  hair-rope  and  halter-makers,  others  who  made  cinches  or 
broad  hair  girths,  makers  of  raw  hide  riatas,  the  curers  of 
hides,  the  triers  out  of  tallow,  the  hewers  of  wood  and  the 
carreta  men,  all  of  whom  amounted  to  hundreds  of  people 
dependent  upon  the  ranchero  or  lord  of  the  manor.  At  morn 
you  hear  the  clatter  of  horses'  feet  and  the  jingling  of  spurs  as 
the  mounted  men,  hat  in  hand  report  for  duty  to  the  major 
domo-in-chief  and  then  in  detachments  dash  off  at  a  full  gallop 
in  all  directions  to  their  respective  duties.  By  this  time  coffee 
is  served  in  the  dining  hall,  and  the  patron,  members  of  his 
household,  and  guests  take  their  morning  cup.  At  nine  or  ten 
•o'clock  the  vaqueros  begin  to  return  from  the  field,  and.alierd 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  289 

of  gentle  horses  are  driven  into  the  corral,  fresh  ones  are  caught, 
and  those  of  the  day  before  are  turned  loose,  may  be  not  to  be 
used  again  for  a  week;  the  fresh  ones  are  saddled,  and  then  the 
under  major  domos  report  to  the  chief,  who  in  turn,  hat  in 
hand,  reports  to  the  patron,  and  then  the  whole  ranch  goes  to 
breakfast,  which  being  disposed  of  the  duties  of  the  day  are 
resumed. 

This  was  about  the  business  of  a  first-class  California  rancho 
in  the  times  of  which  I  write,  and  prior  to  the  discovery  of 
gold.  _The  Rancho  San  Pedro,  the  property  of  Don  Manuel 
Dominguez,  the  Rancho  San  Joaquin,  belonging  to  Don  Jose 
Sepulveda,  and  the  Rancho  del  Chino,  the  lordly  estate  of 
Isaac  Williams,  were  among  the  first  in  California,  each  of 
which  maintained  over  10,000  head  of  horned  cattle  and  half 
as  many  horses,  and  on  my  first  visit  to  Chino,  in  '52,  Colonel 
Williams  had  just  purchased  a  herd  of  35,000  sheep  from  New 
Mexico,  with  which  to  commence  the  business  of  sheep-raising. 
Rancho  San  Pedro  lies  on  Wilmington  Bay,  and  extends  about 
ten  miles  on  the  way  to  Los  Angeles.  Don  Manuel,  who 
lorded  it  over  this  magnificent  California  barony  when  Commo- 
dore Mervine,  U.  S.  N.,  on  his  march  against  Los  Angeles,  in 
1846,  and  on  being  repulsed  made  the  Dominguez  ranch  house 
a  temporary  halting-place  and  fortification,  is  still  the  fee 
simple  owner  of  this  grand  domain  of  rich  bottom  land. 

Don  Manuel  Dominguez  as  a  representative  California  Mex- 
ican of  the  educated  and  intelligent  class,  deserves  more  than  a 
passing  mention,  and  his  name  should  go  into  and  become  a  part 
of  the  history  of  this  country.  Don  Manuel  was  a  former 
dignitary  of  California,  having  under  the  Mexican  regime  held 
some  of  the  most  important  offices  in  the  province,  once  refus- 
ing the  governorship.  On  the  formation  of  the  State  govern- 
ment in  '49  he  was  a  most  influential  member  of  the  constitu- 
tional convention.  Nothing  more  is  necessary  to  illustrate  the 

sterling  worth   of  this   iron    octogenarian   than   to   say   that 
19 


290  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

through  all  the  misfortunes  that  befell  the  great  landed 
proprietors  of  California  he  almost  alone  stands  as  a  sturdy 
oak  midst  the  desolation  around  him,  all  of  his  contemporaries 
having  bowed,  bent  and  fallen  before  the  storms  of  adversity. 
The  great  landed  estates  of  California  in  some  way  or  other 
having  passed  from  the  hands  of  the  former  proprietors  and 
become  the  heritage  of  the  stranger.  Clad  in  the  armor  of 
good  sense  and  integrity,  Don  Manuel  has  battled  with  adver- 
sity, dealing  blow  for  blow,  and  has  come  out  victorious.  All 
honor  to  the  noble  old  hero,  who  now,  surrounded  by  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren,  and  all  that  goes  to  make  one  happy, 
from  his  castle  gates  on  the  Dominguez  hills,  with  his  ancient 
field-glass  sweeps  the  boundary  of  his  twenty  thousand  acre 
field,  with  full  assurance  that  he  has  weathered  the  storm,  out- 
rode the  billows  of  adversity,  and  has  anchored  his  life-boat  in 
the  quiet  harbor  of  security,  honor  and  contentment.  On  the 
coming  of  the  American  the  broad  doors  were  thrown  open  at 
the  Casa  Dominguez,  and  a  hospitality  was  dispensed  that  was 
baronial.  With  the  genial  Dr.  John  BrinckerhooiF  as  interpre- 
ter and  master  of  ceremonies,  the  balls,  entertainments  and 
company  at  the  Dominguez  house  were  of  the  best  in  all  Cali- 
fornia. It  is  safe  to  say  that  Don  Manuel  has  not  an  enemy 
among  the  thousands  who  know  him  ;  honored  and  beloved  by 
all.  Soon  after  my  arrival  in  this  then  happy  land  it  became 
my  good  fortune  to  be  an  invited  guest  at  the  house  of  the 
generous  Don  Manuel,  and  to  win,  and  I  hope  to  have  deserved, 
his  friendship  and  esteem,  and  will  ever  treasure  the  memories 
clustering  around  his  festive  board  as  of  the  most  agreeable 
within  my  quite  varied  experience. 

In  May,  '53,  I  was  invited  to  attend  a  grand  rodea  (which 
means  a  gathering  of  cattle),  which  was  to  take  place  on  the 
San  Joaquin  Rancho,  forty- two  miles  east  of  Los  Angeles  ;  so 
in  company  with  a  fellow-gringo  I  betook  myself  thither,  arriv- 
ing late  in  the  afternoon.  Reaching  the  ranch  house,  I  was 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  291 

surprised  at  the  numbers  present ;  rancheros  from  all  parts  of 
the  county,  and  from  San  Diego,  either  in  person,  followed  by 
a  troop  of  retainers,  or  by  their  representatives,  the  major 
domos.  The  Machados  of  La  Ballona,  the  Picos  from  San 
Fernando  and  San  Diego,  the  Dominguez,  the  Sepulvedas  of 
Palos  Verdes,  the  Lugos  from  everywhere,  the  Avilas  of 
Tahauta,  Centinela  and  Aliso,  the  Sanchez,  the  Ocampo,  and 
the  Cotas,  the  Stearns,  Rowlands,  Reeds,  Williams,  the 
Yorbas  of  Santa  Ana,  and  the  Temples  of  Puente  and  Cerritos, 
all  were  there — a  larger  army  than  that  with  which  Andres 
Pico  so  roughly  handled  Gen.  Kearney  at  San  Pascual,  and 
placed  thirty-two  of  his  troopers  liors  du  combat.  All  were 
there,  with  their  trains,  to  separate  and  drive  to  their  respective 
ranches  whatever  cattle  may  have  strayed  to  the  confines  of 
San  Joaquin.  When  I  unsaddled  I  could  see  groups  of  dozens 
here  and  there,  seated  upon  and  surrounding  a  blanket  spread 
upon  the  ground,  engaged  in  the  national  game  of  monte. 
These  were  the  vaquero  servants.  At  the  house  I  found  Don 
Jose  Sepulveda,  the  owner  of  San  Joaquin,  with  dignified  cour- 
tesy receiving  the  visitors  to  the  rodea,  Don  Jose's  residence, 
however,  being  in  the  city.  The  ranchmen  are  busy  in  dealing 
out  beef  and  other  comestibles  to  the  vaqueros,  and  the  house 
emits  the  odors  of  cookery,  for  the  patrons  and  major  domos, 
must  be  entertained  as  becomes  their  quality.  Full  a  hun- 
dred persons  sup  at  the  ranch  table,  after  which  conversation 
commences,  and  is  kept  up  until  long  after  the  writer  has 
passed  the  boundary  of  dreamland.  Before  daylight,  however, 
the  whole  camp  is  astir,  and  when  I  take  my  coffee  scarce  a 
man  is  to  be  seen,  all  having  gone  to  the  field  to  form  the  rodea 
for  the  day's  work.  By  nine  o'clock  30,000  head  of  horned 
cattle  are  brought  into  one  herd,  and  surrounded  b>  vaqueros, 
armed  with  the  terrible  riata,  and  now  the  work  of  separation 
and  marking  begins. 

The  cattle  of  these  many  owners  have  not  only  to  be  sep- 


292  'REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

arated,  but  the  calves  must  be  marked  in  the  ear  and  branded. 
All  of  this  work  must  be  done  inside  of  two  days,  as  during 
the  time,  this  great  herd  have  no  food,  and  may  become  mad- 
dened and  unmanageable  from  hunger  &nd  thirst.  To  pene- 
.trate  this  formidable  body,  to  a  gringo,  is  a  most  delicate  and 
dangerous  operation,  but  to  see  how  the  vaqueros  do  it,  their 
perfection  of  horsemanship,  the  adroitness  with  which  they  ply 
the  riata,  the  cleverness  and  ease  with  which  they  extricate  a 
cow  and  her  calf  from  this  living  labarynth,  excites  one's 
admiration  in  the  highest  degree.  As  they  are  extricated  each 
owner  receives  his  own  marks  and  brands  the  calf  and  drives 
them  to  his  separate  herd.  So  by  the  time  the  rodea  is  over 
the  grand  herd  of  30,000  is  broken  into  many  small  herds  and 
the  vaqueros  drive  them  to  their  respective  ranches.  These 
rodeas  were  grand  affairs,  .and  the  }  oung  men  of  the  ranches 
vied  with  each  other  in  feats  of  horsemanship  and  throwing 
the  lazo.  The  one  of  which  I  write  was  disposed  of  in  two 
days,  and  a  few  of  the  rancheros  resolved  to  remain  at  the 
rancho  and  further  enjoy  the  hospitality  of  the  host,  and  when 
I  surrendered  myself  to  the  embrace  of  Morpheus,  the  most 
lively  conversation  was  going  on,  Don  Jose  and  his  brother, 
Don  Fernando,  manifesting  a  lively  interest  therein.  At  about 
half-past  three  o'clock  a  messenger  arrived  from  Los  Angeles 
with  the  information  that  the  aged  father  of  Don  Jose  and 
Fernando  was  suddenly  stricken  with  serious  illness  and  was  on 
the  very  threshold  of  eternity.  The  arrival  awoke  myself  and 
companion,  and  upon  learning  the  matter  and  that  Don  Jose 
and  his  brother  were  to  depart  instantly,  we  ordered  our  horses 
and  resolved  to  ride  in  with  them.  Some  one  suggested  that 
we  would  not  be  able  to  keep  up,  but  as  Don  Jose  was  near 
sixty  years  of  age  we  scouted  the  idea,  and  at  four  o'clock  we 
were  on  the  road  at  a  full  gallop,  which  we  continued  to  the 
Santa  Ana,  the  two  Dons  rising  the  west  bank  when  we  were 
in  the  middle  of  the  river.  We  failed  to  come  up  with  them, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  293 

notwithstanding  we  put  our  chargers  to  their  mettle,  and  before 
reaching  Los  Nietos  they  were  out  of  sight.  When  we 
ascended  the  western  bluff  of  the  San  Gabriel  we  could  faintly 
discern  the  flying  figures  of  the  two  horsemen  eight  miles 
ahead  of  us.  "We  were  badly  beaten,  notwithstanding  we  made 
the  forty-two  miles  in  a  few  minutes  over  three  hours. 
X  One  of  the  most  prominent  and  wealthy  of  the  ante-bellum 
pioneers  was  Isaac  Williams,  known  in  the  Spanish  vernacular 
as  Don  Julian  del  Chino.  Colonel  Williams  was  the  most 
perfect  specimen  of  the  frontier  gentleman  I  ever  knew — tall, 
handsome,  elegant  and  courtly  in  his  manners.  To  have  met 
him  in  Washington  or  N«w  York  he  would  have  been  taken  as 
a  high  type  of  a  cotton  king  of  Louisiana,  rather  than  one  who 
had  passed  his  life  in  the  Kocky  Mountains  and  on  the  unknown 
shores  of  the  unknown  sea.  With  his  fifteen  leagues  of  the 
best  land  in  California,  his  ten  thousand  head  of  horned  cattle, 
his  six  thousand  or  more  of  horses,  his  thirty-five  thousand  head 
of  sheep,  his  fields  of  corn,  barley,  and  wheat,  with  his  corps  of 
Mexican  assistants  and  his  villages  of  Indian  vassals,  this 
adventurous  American  was  more  than  a  baron :  he  was  a  prince, 
and  wielded  an  influence  and  power  more  absolute  and 
arbitrary  than  any  of  the  barons  of  the  middle  ages.  Colonel 
Williams  dispensed  a  hospitality  that  was  not  only  free,  it  was 
generous.  His  house  was  always  open,  and  when  it  would  not 
hold  his  guests  they  would  camp  around.  Hundreds  and 
thousands  of  immigrants  from  the  "  States,"  from  Chihuahua 
and  New  Mexico,  found  the  Chino  ranch  a  haven  of  rest,  where 
the  hungry  were  fed,  and  the  naked  clothed,  and  the  infirm 
cared  for,  and  none  came  without  a  welcome  to  his  bounty. 
I  have  seen  one  hundred  persons  at  a  time  recipients  of  his 
generosity.  He  would  send  to  Los  Angeles  and  purchase 
clothes  for  his  tattered  countrymen  after  their  arduous  journey 
across  the  mountains  and  deserts.  Individually  I  knew  three 
young  men  having  crossed  the  plains,  hired  to  Colonel  Williams. 


294  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

to  dig  a  ditch.  He  finding  them  to  be  educated  business  men, 
came  into  Los  Angeles  and  set  them  up  as  merchants,  with  a 
$10,000  stock.  His  open  generosity  frequently  exposed  him 
to  impositions  and  frauds,  all  of  which  he  submitted  to  with 
the  utmost  philosophical  good  humor.  In  '52  and  '53  I  passed 
n  good  deal  of  my  time  as  the  friend  and  guest  of  this  modern 
feudal  lord,  and  in  writing  this  tribute  to  his  memory  know 
whereof  I  write.  Colonel  Williams  died  in  1857,  at  the  age  of 
about  fifty-five  years.  Colonel  John  J.  Warner,  another 
pioneer,  whose  magnificent  domain  was  the  first  that  was 
reached  by  the  immigrant  after  crossing  the  Colorado  desert, 
was  always  open-hearted  and  genSrous  to  the  way-worn 
traveller,  and  not  being  so  rich  as  Williams  was  nearly  impov- 
erished by  his  acts  of  charitable  liberality.  All  honor  to  this 
benevolent  old  pioneer. 

Don  Jose  Sepulveda  died  in  1875,  leaving  to  the  country 
one  of  the  finest  families  of  children  that  now  grace  our 
county  and  its  society — one  of  his  daughters  being  the  wife  of 
my  salt-sea  hero,  Captain  Haley,  one  the  wife  of  Captain  James 
Thompson,  whose  name  appears  so  often  and  so  honorably  in 
this  book,  and  the  last  is  the  wife  of  Thomas  D.  Mott,  who 
was  for  many  years  successively  Clerk  of  Los  Angeles  County, 
and  more  recently  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature.  Mr. 
Mott  is  a  member  of  the  celebrated  Mott  family  of  New  York, 
and  is  all  in  all  a  very  marked  character. 

Don  Jose  sent  his  boys  to  the  East  to  be  educated,  and  in 
this  he  manifested  great  wisdom.  His  son  Ignacio.  yet  a  young 
man,  is  one  of  the  most  promising,  not  only  in  the  State,  but 
within  the  whole  limits  of  our  glorious  land.  A  lawyer  of  rare 
talent,  he,  when  scarce  past  his  majority,  discharged  the  duties 
of  Judge  of  Los  Angeles  County  with  marked  distinction  and 
ability,  and  was  raised  thence  to  the  dignity  of  District  Judge, 
and  is  now  a  Judge  of  the  Superior  Court.  The  country  has 
just  cause  for  being  proud  of,  and  the  people  are  proud  of, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  295 

Judge  Ignacio  Sepulveda,  and  the  author  is  proud  to  call  him 
my  friend.  Andronico  Sepulveda,  a  brother  to  the  Judge,  is 
Auditor  of  Los  Angeles  County. 

The  first  few  days  after  my  arrival  in  Los  Angeles  I  visited 
the  then  famous  vineyard  of  William  Wolfskill,  the  best  then 
in  California.  Mr.  Wolfskill  was  a  very  remarkable  man  ;  in 
fact  he  was  a  hero — not  the  kind  of  a  hero  poets  like  to  sing 
about,  but  still  a  hero.  A  man  of  .indomitable  will,  industry 
and  self-denial ;  an  American  pioneer  hero  ;  one  who  succeeds 
in  all  he  undertakes,  and  is  alwa)7s  to  be  trusted  ;  of  the  kind 
of  men  who  enrich  the  country  in  which  they  live.  Mr.  Wolf- 
skill  sold  the  first  grapes  in  San  Francisco  grown  north  of  Los 
Angeles.  Having  planted  a  vineyard,  on  his  ranch  in  jS"apa 
Valley,  in  '54,  he  placed  his  first  crop  on  Long  Wharf,  in  San 
Francisco,  one  month  in  advance  of  Los  Angeles  grapes,  and 
sold  them  at  twenty-five  dollars  per  cental  wholesale.  I  met 
this  pioneer  fruit-grower  when  disposing  of  this  crop,  and  he 
said,  "I  am  now  realizing  a  boyhood  dream,  of  a  country  where 
money  grows  on  bushes.  Growing  grapes  at  two  bits  a  pound 
is  the  nearest  thing  to  plucking  money  from  bushes  that  has 
ever  been  realized."  Mr.  Wolfskill  was  the  most  economical  of 
men,  yet  in  all  truth  he  was  one  of  the  most  hospitable  and 
generous.  He  died  in  1866,  leaving  a  very  large  fortune. 


296  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Jim  Savage,  the  Tulare  King — His  Gieat  Influence  Over  the  Indians — His 
Barrel  of  Gold  Dust— He  Establishes  His  Camp  and  Harem  on  the 
Plaza  of  San  Francisco— Is  Photographed  by  Vance— Indian  Monte — 
Jim  Wins  a  Large  Pile — His  Bloody  End. 

KNOW  of  no  country  at  the  present  day  so  inac- 
cessible and  isolated  as  was  California  prior  to  the 
Mexican  war.  To  reach  our  coast  by  sea  required 
a  voyage  of  imminent  danger  and  monotonous  hardship  of 
nearly  a  year.  The  old  hide  droghers  being  the  class  of  vessel 
that  would  butt  three  times  at  a  billow  and  then  back  out 
and  go  around  it,  and  besides  the  skipper  felt  it  to  be  his 
especial  duty  to  remain  in  each  port,  and  Honolulu  in  partic- 
ular, as  long  a  time  as  the  convenience  of  the  crew  required. 
By  land  no  one  came  here,  unless  perchance  some  adventurous 
gringo  vagabondizing  in  Mexico  sought  fairer  fields  further 
on,  and  finding  carne  and  contentment  in  our  genial  land, 
became  as  one  to  the  manor  born,  hence  all  of  the  ante-bellum 
gringos  were  Dons,  and  generally  held  in  high  esteem  by  the 
genuine  and  simon-pure  Dons  of  the  country.  However,  some 
of  the  descendants  of  the  conquistaclores  held  these  adopted 
Dons  in  not  very  high  esteem  and  withheld  from  them  the 
aristocratic  distinction,  and  denied  that  those  gringos  aforesaid 
were  even  entitled  to  be  called  Hidalgos, — the  latter  appella- 
tion meaning  a  man  who  has  a  father,  or  the  son  of  somebody. 
Adventurous  trappers  sometimes  found  themselves  trapped 
into  becoming  Dons  and  the  fathers  of  Dons,  which  latter 
class  of  Dons  now  claim  to  be  Hidalgos,  or  meaning  in  another 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  297 

sense  that  they  had  somebody  for  a  father,  a  something  certainly 
to  be  justly  proud  of.  Now  there  were  just  three  classes  of 
gringos,  as  above  enumerated,  the  seaman,  the  adventurer  from 
Mexico,  and  the  trapper.  The  true  born  Spaniard  is  very 
proud,  and  why  not  ?  Was  not  Cervantes  a  Spaniard  ?  And 
did  not  the  Spanish  cavalier  upset  the  Aztec  empire  in  Mexico, 
and  the  Incas  in  Peru,  level  their  temples  with  the  ground 
and  gobble  up  an  immense  amount  of  swag,  and  then  set  up 
as  the  richest  and  most  powerful  people,  under  the  special  pro- 
tection of  their  unnumbered  saints.  I  repeat  the  Spaniard  is 
proud  and  has  reason  so  to  be,  and  those  who  held  the  bogus 
gringo  Dons  in  low  esteem  only  did  honor  to  their  noble 
ancestry. 

There  were  some  exceptions  to  these  three  kinds  of  gringos 
but  they  were  very  rare,  as  much  so  as  angels'  visits,  which 
were  not  rarities  at  all  in  this  angelic  land,  as  occasionally 
a  gentleman  of  education  and  rare  accomplishments  would 
find  his  way  to  this  far-off  region,  and  being  seduced  by  its 
charms,  or  the  charms  of  its  blythe  and  happy  daughters, 
would  here  remain.  Such  were  Victor  Prudhomme,  Thomas 
0.  Larkin,  General  Sutter,  Don  David  W.  Alexander  and  men 
of  that  class.  This  reminds  me  now  of  an  anecdote  that  was 
related  to  me  by  Don  David  which  will  illustrate  the  contempt 
in  which  the  average  gringo  was  held  by  the  high-toned  Span- 
iard in  the  ante-bellum  times  in  California. 

Don  David  was  visiting  at  one  of  the  principal  angel  habita- 
tions hereabout,  and  was  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  pre- 
siding angel  thereof,  when  a  little  girl  came  to  the  door  with, 
'•'  Mamma,  alia  viene  jente"  (people  are  coming).  "Quienes 
son  ?  "  (who  are  they  ?)  queried  the  rnamma.  ie  Quien  sabe  ? 
hay  muchos"  (who  knows?  there  are  many),  answered  the 
little  angel.  At  this  time  the  Dona  went  to  the  door,  and  see- 
ing the  jente,  returned  to  her  seat,  gently  reproving  her  little 
girl  with  :  "Ah,  que  ija,  estos  no  son  jente  ;  son  gringos." 


298  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER. 

(Fie !  fie  !  child,  those  are  not  people  ;  they  are  gringos.)  In 
the  third  chapter  of  this  history  the  author,  in  defining  the 
word  gringo,  declared  it  to  have  been  an  awful  thing  to  be  a 
gringo  in  those  days.  Now,  does  the  reader  wonder  at  the 
declaration  ?  Don  David  was  a  most  genial  camp-fire  com- 
panion, and  the  very  best  story-teller  that  ever  flipped  a  flap- 
jack, and  hereafter  I  may  make  further  mention  of  him  in  that 
particular. 

In  those  ante-bellum  times  there  appeared  among  the 
Indians  of  the  Tulare  Valley  a  character  that  was  not  a  Don — 
neither  was  he  a  gringo.  Whence  he  came  no  one  knew  ;  who 
he  was,  or  had  been,  was  a  mystery.  He  was  comparatively  a 
boy,  white,  -and  an  American.  He  eschewed  all  association 
with  the  scattering  gringo  population,  and  severely  gave-  the 
cold  shoulder  to  the  native  Dons.  The  Indians  themselves 
could  elicit  no  information  as  to  his  antecedents,  so  they  decided 
that  he  came  down  on  a  moonbeam.  Without  any  palaver  he 
hung  up  his  hat  among  those  Indians,  and  at  once  assumed  the 
role  of  ruler. 

Having  first  installed  himself  as  chief  of  a  village,  soon  he 
became  master  of  a  tribe.  Being  sober,  intelligent,  and  ener- 
getic he  did  a  great  deal  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  his 
people,  and  to  teach  them  the  ruder  arts  of  civilization.  He 
encouraged  them  to  raise  crops  and  garner  them,  and  having 
become  so  popular  with  one  tribe,  others  sought  his  protection 
and  rule,  and  when  the  American  flag  was  flung  to  the  breeze 
in  California,  Jim  Savage  was  the  absolute  and  despotic  ruler 
over  thousands  of  Indians,  extending  all  the  way  from  the 
Cosumnes  to  the  Tejon  Pass,  and  was  by  them  designated  in 
their  Spanish  vernacular  El  Bey  Guero — The  blonde  king.  He 
called  himself  the  Tulare  King.  The  respect,  fear  and  super- 
stitious veneration  these  rude  people  had  for  their  mysterious 
king,  was  greater  than  that  shown  by  the  Aztecs  for  the 
Tonatiuh  of  conquistorial  history.  Jim  might  have  been  a 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  299 

veritable  El  Dorado,  or  El  Rey  Dorado,  and  fearing  that  many 
of  rny  readers  may  not  fully  understand  the  meaning  of  that 
term,  I  will  inform  him  that  for  many  years  in  South  America, 
after  the  conquest,  there  was  a  tradition  that  somewhere  in  the 
valley  of  the  Orinoco,  there  existed  an  Indian  kingdom  ;  that 
gold  dust  was  there  so  plentiful  that  every  morning  the  King 
after  his  ablutions  was  anointed  with  a  resinous  gum  and  then 
besprinkled  with  gold  dust  until  he  was  made  to  appear  as  though 
he  were  gilded  (dorado — from  the  Spanish  verb  dorar,  to  guild.) 
This  imaginary  monarch  was  called  tiie  Gilded  King,  (El  Rey 
Dorado).  The  Tulare  King  might  have  been  El  Rey  Dorado, 
for  the  reason  that  in  1850  he  had  more  gold  dust  than  possibly 
was  ever  possessed  by  any  one  man,  and  could  have  been  gilded 
therewith  every  morning  of  his  life  should  he  have  lived  his 
allotted  time.  Mr,  G.  D.  W.  Robinson,  one  of  our  most  truth- 
ful and  intelligent  '49ers,  (and  where  is  the  '49er  who  is  not 
truthful  in  all  gold  stories)  now  resident  of  San  Diego,  informs 
the  writer  hereof  that  in  1850  he  was  at  Jim  Savage's  Camp 
in  the  Tulares,  and  that  he  had  a  pork  barrel  full  of  gold  dust, 
which  enormous  quantity  would  amount  to  nearly  a  million  of 
dollars  in  value;  still  Mr.  Robinson  declares  the  truth  of  what 
is  here  written,  and  has  proffered  to  make  affidavit  to  the  same, 
and  also  that  this  great  treasure  sat  in  his  tent  wholly 
unguarded  except  by  the  Indians  themselves. 

When  the  gold  mines  were  discovered,  the  Tulare  King,  with 
a  large  number  of  his  slave-like  subjects  went  to  the  mines,  and 
the  Indians  with  their  lateas  could  collect  as  much  dust  as 
could  the  most  intelligent  white  man,  and  at  the  close  of  day 
all  these  Indian  workers  would  faithfully  deliver  the  proceeds 
of  their  day's  labor  to  their  King. 

Jirn  also  won  an  enormous  quantity  of  gold-dust,  from  a 
tribe  of  mountain  Indians.  The  Tulare  King  was  a  great 
adept  in  the  Indian  game  of  three  sticks,  which  is  very  much 
like  three-card  monte.  One  of  three'short  sticks  being  marked, 


300  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

a  player  takes  the  three  and  after  manipulating  conceals  them 
in  his  two  closed  hands,  and  the  others  lay  their  wagers  and 
then  guess  in  which  hand  the  dealer  holds  the  marked  stick. 
Now  a  certain  mountain  chief,  whose  tribe  had  collected  a  large 
amount  of  dust,  was  challenged  by  Jim  Savage  to  play  this 
game  for  gold-dust.  The  challenge  being  accepted,  the  whole 
mountain  tribe  came  to  Jim's  camp  and  were  royally  enter- 
tained. Beeves  were  slaughtered,  flour  given  out,  and  sugar 
and  coffee  freely  distributed,  all  at  Jim's  expense.  After  much 
palaver  and  ceremony  the  game  commenced  and  was  kept  up 
with  varying  success  for  three  days,  when  at  last  the  Tulare 
King  won  the  last  measure  of  gold,  which  occurred  at  about 
midnight.  "When  the  last  wager  was  lost  the  dusky  mountain 
chief  gave  a  resonant  whoop  and  took  up  a  dog  trot  for  the 
mountains,  followed  in  the  same  manner  by  his  tribe.  He  was 
beaten,  but  how  he  never  knew.  The  truth  was,  Jim  had 
learned  to  conceal  the  marked  stick  in  his  sleeve.  The  naked 
savage,  never  suspecting  such  civilized  device,  was  thus  beaten 
out  of  all  the  dust  collected  by  his  tribe  during  the  season. 
Some  time  in  the  autumn  of  '50  the  Tulare  King,  with  his 
court  and  harem  visited  San  Francisco,  and  notwithstanding 
his  immense  wealth  in  gold-dust  he  disdained  to  stop  at  a  tav- 
ern, or  live  in  the  manner  of  civilized  man,  and  so  he  pitched 
his  camp  on  Portsmouth  Square  (the  plaza)  in  all  the  pomp  of 
barbaric  magnificence,  and  was  thus  photographed  by  Vance, 
the  pioneer  picture  man.  This  photograph  ought  to  be  in  the 
collection  of  the  Society  of  Pioneers. 

The  King,  court  and  harem,  however,  only  remained  in  San 
Francisco  long  enough  to  see  the  sights  of  civilization,  and  then 
returned  to  their  great  Tulare  kingdom,  and  now 
"  Grim  visaged  war  rears  his  wrinkled  front." 

The  mountain  Indians  were  making  war  on  the  miners,  and 
the  bugle  blast  of  war  resounded  from  the  American  Fork  to 
the  Stanislaus.  Two  batallions  of  militia  were  called  out  and 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER.  301 

Major  Savage  was  appointed  to  command  that  of  the  South. 
In  his  batallion  he  had  some  very  high-strung  officers,  one  a 
West  Point  graduate,  I  believe,  Major  Harvey. 

Now,  although  Jim  Savage  was  a  man  of  rare  ability,  and 
wherever  or  how  he  got  it,  had  a  very  tolerable  education,  but 
was  wholly  unfitted  to  command  a  batallion  of  such  men  as  be- 
longed to  his  command,  for  as  such  commander  he  showed  such 
despotic  disposition  as  he  had  used  toward  his  Tulare  Indians, 
who  were  in  no  way  compromised  in  the  war  then  waged  by 
their  redskin  kindred,  and  their  King  was  only  appointed  to 
command  because  of  his  great  influence  among  all  the  Indians, 
the  seat  of  war  being  many  leagues  to  the  northward  of  the 
Tulare  capital,  as  it  was,  Major  Savage  committed  some  great 
indignity  on  some  of  his  high-toned  officers,  for  which,  in  a 
fight  of  his  own  seeking,  he  was  killed. 

Great  was  the  wailing  of  grief  among  the  Tulares  at  the 
untimely  taking  off  of  their  King.  For  months  they  continued 
to  mourn,  and  in  all  truth  their  loss  was  irreparable.  Jim 
Savage  was  not  only  their  King,  lie  was  a  father  ever  guardf  ul 
of  their  rights,  and  had  he  been  spared  them  their  annihilation, 
which  was  so  swift  that  it  can  scarcely  be  realized,  might  have 
been  averted.  Jim  Savage  was  a  wonderful  man,  and  his 
•death  was  a  loss  to  the  country  as  well  as  to  the  Indians. 
•Since  his  death  no  elue  was  ever  found  as  to  his  origin  or  ante- 
cedent history,  and  no  account  was  ever  taken  or  inquiry  made 
concerning  his  vast  treasure  in  gold  dust. 

After  the  death  of  Jim  Savage  various  white  men  went 
;among  those  same  Indians  and  tried  to  win  their  confidence 
and  gain  such  influence  as  was  wielded  by  Savage,  but  all 
without  avail.  After  €ke  death  of  their  Rey  Guero  white  men 
were  all  alike  to  them. 

When  the  gold  mines  were  discovered  California  was  densely 
[populated  with  Indians.  You  couldn't  go  amiss  for  them. 
Mountain  and  valley,  forest  and  plain,  were  covered  with 


302  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Indians.  Where  are  they  ?  Thirty  years  seems  too  short  a 
period  of  time  to  annihilate  a  great  population  extending  over 
more  than  a  thousand  miles  extent  of  country.  At  the  present 
time,  passing  over  the  Tulare  plains  not  a  vestige  is  to  be  seen 
of  its  former  thousands  of  Indian  population.  They  are  gone ! 
all  gone !  It  is  sad  to  contemplate ;  they  were  so  docile  and 
harmless  in  disposition.  If  they  were  swept  into  the  mael- 
strom of  destruction  by  our  Anglo-Saxon  civilization,  then  I 
fear  me  there  is  something  wrong  about  it.  But  what  is  the 
use  of  useless  lamentation  ?  The  Indians  are  all  gone  and 
that  is  the  end  of  it,  and  we  can  only  hope  that  they  have  all 
gone  to  happy  hunting  grounds. 

Major  Walter  H.  Harvey,  the  slayer  of  Jim  Savage,  was 
sensitive,  generous,  and  high-strung,  absolutely  fearless,  slow 
to  give  offence,  and  quick  as  the  lightning's  flash  to  resent  an 
insult  or  to  repel  an  aggression.  I  do  not  remember  the  exact 
cause  of  the  difficulty  between  himself  and  Savage,  and  it  is 
now  too  late  to  inquire,  or  to  raise  an  issue  thereon  ;  but 
knowing  Harvey  long  and  well,  the  author  is  free  to  maintain 
that  in  the  great  number  of  brave  and  generous  men  of  pioneer 
times,  none  stood  higher  than  the  gallant  Harvey,  who  died  at 
Los  Angeles  in  1861,  aged  forty-eight  years. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  3C3 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Bradsbaw — A.  True  Gentleman  and  Natural  Lunatic — Bill  First  Turns  Up 
in  Sonoma  in  1846 — His  Scrimmage  With  -a  Mexican  Caplaia — Comes 
Out  First  Best  but  Vamoses  the  Ranch — Joins  the  Bear  Flag  Party — 
Capture  of  Sonoma — True  Chivalry — Joins  Fremont's  Battalion — Mad 
Freaks  Among  the  Angels — The  French  Rebellion  at  Mokelumne  Hill — 
The  Militia  Ordered  Out — Bradshaw  Appointed  to  Command — Happy 
Termination  of  the  War — His  Antics  in  San  Francisco-  Goes  to  Ari- 
zona— Tragic  Death. 


JENTION  having  been  heretofore  made  of  Bill  Brad- 
shaw, his  shooting  Nelse  Williamson  in  our  Kern 
River  gold  seeking  expedition  and  his  having  given 
name  to  the  famous  Bradshaw  mining  district  in  Arizona,  it 
will  now  be  in  place  to  give  a  brief  account  of  this  curious 
character,  and  a  more  curious  or  a  more  marked  character  this 
careful  chronicler  never  knew — one  of  nature's  most  polished 
gentlemen  and  brightest  jewel  in  America's  collection  of  true 
born  chivalry.  Bradshaw  was  brave,  generous,  eccentric,  and 
in  simple  truth  a  natural  lunatic.  In  manly  form  and  physi- 
cal beauty,  perfect;  in  muscular  strength,  a  giant;  in  fleetness 
of  foot  and  endurance,  unequaled.  The  first  account  I  have  of 
Bradshaw  was  at  Sonoma  in  1846,  then  about  twenty  years  old, 
at  work,  under  Captain  Salvador  Vallejo,  Mexican  Post  Com- 
mander, building  a  picket  fence.  Don  Salvador,  with  all  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  despotic  authority  came  around 
where  Bill  was  at  work  and  expressed  his  marked  displeasure 
at  the  manner  in  which  it  was  being  done.  Bill,  with  all 
the  dignity  of  true  born  American  importance,  flatly  told  the 
Don  that  he  didn't  know  what  he  was  talking  about,  which 
sass  so  kindled  the  ire  of  the  offended  Mexican  dignitary  that 


304  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

he  whipped  out  his  trusty  Toledo  and  tried  its  temper  on  Bill's 
supposed  seat  of  honor,  striking  him  with  the  flat  thereof. 
Vesuvius !  Stromboli !  Cotapaxi !  what  are  thy  fires  as  com- 

• 

pared  with  those  that  raged  in  the  bosom  of  this  young  hero 
from  the  land  of  Marion  and  Surnpter  upon  being  struck  an 
ignominious  blow  with  the  flat  of  a  Mexican  sabre  ?  In  an 
instant  the  domineering  Don  was  down,  felled  like  an  ox  with 
a  redwood  picket,  wielded  with  terrific  force  by  this  outraged 
American  boy,  who  seized  the  sword  of  the  apparently  dead 
Captain,  and  in  a  fury  of  uncontrollable  rage  pounded  it 
into  pot-hooks  with  his  axe  that  lay  conveniently  near.  Then 
realizing  what  he  had  done  Bradshaw  saw  that  he  must 
choose,  and  that  immediately,  between  instant  flight  and  a 
Mexican  prison,  chains,  and  ignominious  punishment.  So  hur- 
riedly he  sought  his  temporary  lodging  place,  seized  his  rifle 
and  struck  out  for  the  Sacramento  Valley,  and  only  returned  to 
Sonoma  when  that  military  post  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Bear  Flag  party,  Bradshaw  being  one  of  the  most  daring  and 
energetic  of  that  adventurous  band. 

Salvador  Vallejo  commanded  the  garrison  at  Sonoma,  and 
finding  the  young  hero  of  the  redwood  picket  in  the  ranks  of 
his  captors,  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  said  to  the  Bear  Flag 
commander,  "  Now  I  suppose  I  will  be  murdered,  finding  this 
assassin  in  your  force,"  pointing  to  Bradshaw.  "Oh,  no," 
responded  Bill ;  "  we  are  now  friends,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
If  I  owed  you  anything  I  paid  it  in  full,  and  with  interest.  Is 
not  this  true,  Don  Salvador  ?  And  if  you  owed  me  anything 
I  am  willing  to  square  accounts.  An  American  never  strikes 
an  enemy  when  he  is  down.  You  are  down  now,  and  I  am  up, 
so  here's  my  hand  ;  my  friendship  is  yours  if  you  need  it." 
Don  Salvador,  who  was  really  a  fine  fellow,  manifestly 
chagrined,  shook  the  proffered  hand  of  the  victorious  young 
'Filibuster,  vowing  future  friendship,  and  ever  after  the  two 
were  fast  friends.  'Bill  said  it  was  the  proudest  act  of  his  life 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  305 

to  show  that  mendacious  Mexican  how  an  American  could 
avenge  a  wrong.  The  next  we  know  of  Bradshaw  is  in  Los 
Angeles,  in  '47,  as  a  Lieutenant  in  Fremont's  Battalion,  where 
his  wild  freaks  astonished  the  Dons  and  won  the  hearts  of  the 
Dofias,  among  whom  he  was  a  universal  favorite.  Next,  in  '51, 
we  find  him  playing  the  game  of  heroic  chivalry  at  Mokelumne 
Hill,  in  the  French  revolution  at  that  place,  which  occurred  in 
this  way  and  from  this  cause:  The  State  Legislature  had 
passed  a  foreign  miners'  tax  law,  which  the  French,  and  there 
was  a  large  colony  of  them  at  Mokelumne  Hill,  refused  to  pay. 
The  Sheriff,  who  was  tax  collector  ex-officio}  summoned  a  large 
posse  to  enforce  collection.  The  Frenchmen  rallied,  raised  the 
tri-colored  flag,  proclaimed  their  independence,  marched  in 
armed  procession,  sang  the  Marsellaise,  and  boldly  defied  the 
power  of  the  State.  The  Governor  ordered  out  a  battalion  of 
militia,  and  appointed  Bradshaw  to  command  it.  Marshaling 
his  warriors,  Bill  drew  up  before  the  Gallic  fort,  and  ordered 
the  tri-colored  flag  to  be  hauled  down,  the  rebels  to  lay  down 
their  arms,  and  surrender  at  discretion.  The  fiery  Frenchmen 
flung  their  defiance  in  the  teeth  of  the  enemy,  by  a  fierce  "  Vive 
la  France,"  then  marched  forth  in  battle  array,  formed  their 
line  in  front  of  Bradshaw's  men,  and  dared  them  to  fire  the  first 
shot,  whereupon  the  clicking  of  gun-cocks  was  heard  along  the 
line  of  the  militia.  At  this  Bradshaw  faced  his  line,  and  com- 
manded "  Order  arms,"  which  was  generally  obeyed.  Some' 
however,  standing  menacingly  at  a  "  ready,"  Bradshaw  then 
proceeded  to  disarm  and  eject  from  his  line  those  who  had 
dared  to  disobey  his  order  ;  after  which  he  approached  the 
French  commander,  and  proposed  to  him  that  if  blood  was  to 
be  spilled,  then  let  the  question  involved  be  then  and  there 
settled  by  single  combat,  the  two  commanders  to  be  the  com- 
batants. This  proposition  being  instantly  accepted,  the 
preliminaries  were  gone  into,  Avhich  happily  led  to  an  amicable 

adjustment   of    the    unfortunate    complications.     The    rebels 
20 


306  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

pulled  down  their  tri-color,  and  peace  reigned  supreme  where 
"  Grim  visaged  war  had  reared  his  wrinkled  front." 

When  the  question  of  foreign  miner's  tax  came  to  be  gravely 
discussed,  it  was  decided  that  the  "  intent  of  the  Legislature 
was  only  to  tax  Chinamen,  and  that  Gauls,  Britons,  and  other 
pugnacious  peoples  were  not  included  in  the  miners'  tax,"  and 
right  there  the  whole  thing  ended  except  as  to  the  Chinamen, 
who  were  vigorously  pursued  and  made  to  feel  the  full  force  of 
the  law  in  filling  the  pockets  of  the  Collector  and  his  legion  of 
deputies,  for  very  little  of  the  gold  wrung  from  the  non- 
resisting  Mongols  found  its  way  into  either  the  county  or  State 
treasuries.  Bradshaw  won  a  most  honorable  distinction  in  this 
episode  of  dangerous  import,  and  to  him  was  solely  due  its 
happy  termination. 

Bill  was  one  of  the  most  witty  fellows  to  be  found,  and 
wherever  he  stopped  a  crowd  of  eager  listeners  would  surround 
him,  and  roars  of  merriment  would  respond  to  his  well  "turned 
points.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  at  the  old  St.  Nicholas 
Hotel  in  San  Francisco,  more  commonly  known  as  Arm- 
strong's, on  Sansome  street,  between  Commercial  and  Sacra- 
mento. Bradshaw  had  just  arrived  from  Tuolumne  and  found 
at  the  hotel  quite  a  circle  of  old  friends,  including  the  author, 
Tom  Hereford,  Bob  Wood,  Joe  McCorkle,  then  a  member  of 
Congress,  and  others,  all  of  whom  formed  a  dinner  party  in  the 
grand  dining  saloon  and  occupied  a  table  to  themselves.  It 
was  soon  found  that  Bradshaw's  or  Bunk's  (as  he  was  called, 
from  the  fact  that  he  came  originally  from  Buncum  county, 
South  Carolina)  drolleries  not  only  kept  his  own  dining  com- 
panions in  uproarious  merriment,  but  excited  attention  from 
the  occupants  of  neighboring  tables. 

Some  one  passed  a  dish  of  shrimps  to  Bunk,  with  the 
"  Major,  try  some  of  the  shrimps  ?"  "  Shrimps  ?  What  are 
shrimps  ?"  queried  Bunk.  The  desired  information  hp.ving 
been  duly  accorded,  Bradshaw  gravely  and  with  the  utmost 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  307 

deliberation  soliloquizes  as  though  speaking  to  himself,  holding 
the  dish  of  shrimps  in  one  hand  and  intently  gazing  at  the  con- 
tents: ""Well,  these  are  shrimps!  I  never  heard  of  a  shrimp 
before.  "Wonder  how  they'll  do  ?  The  fact  is,  I've  eaten 
snakes,  feasted  on  lizards  and  gormandized  on  grasshoppers,  and 
thought  I  had  tasted  all  kinds  of  human  food,  but  now  here's 
something  new  !"  '  Then  deliberately  taking  a  large  handful  of 
the  "plagued  things,"  as  he  called  them,  went  to  eating  them 
as  though  they  had  been  wild  huckleberries.  In  a  moment  the 
whole  dining-room  was  in  an  uproar  of  boisterous  merriment, 
while  Bunk  continued  eating  until  he  had  finished  the  whole 
dish,  shells,  claws  and  all. 

Alas,  poor  Bradshaw !  A  better  fellow  never  lived,  and  we 
will  now  in  charity  draw  the  sombre  curtain  of  forgetfulness 
over  his  unfortunate  death,  which  occurred  at  Bradshaw's  ferry 
on  the  Colorado  river  in  May,  1863. 

The  following  account  of  the  Bear  Flag  party  I  find  in  my 
scrap-book,  cut  from  one  of  our  California  papers  some  years 
ago,  and  it  being  in  such  perfect  harmony  with  the  facts  as  I 
remember  them,  I  give  it  as  absolutely  correct.  The  "  William 
Todd"  who  painted  the  Bear  Flag  is  at  the  present  writing, 
1881,  one  of  the  most  respected  citizens  of  Los  Angeles : 

"  A  great  curiosity  was  awakened  by  the  sudden  arrival  of  a 
young  man  in  Monterey  from  Mazatlan,  in  a  United  States 
sloop  of  war,  having  left  Washington  in  November,  1845.  The 
young  man  was  Lieutenant  Gillespie,  of  the  United  States 
Navy,  and  his  immediate  inquiry  was  for  Captain  Fremont. 
Learning  his  route  he  sets  out  to  overtake  him  with  all  haste. 
This  he  succeeds  in  doing  on  the  southern  border  of  Oregon. 
All  the  certain  knowledge  we  have  of  his  errand  from  the 
United  States  government  to  Captain  Fremont,  we  must  infer 
from  the  latter's  movements.  He  starts  instantly  with  his 
men  on  his  return  to  California. 

"This  sudden  return  could  not  have  been  in  the  interest  of 


308  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

science.  Nor  was  it  for  purposes  of  exploration.  Something 
more  than  these  must  have  been  determined  on  in  Washington, 
in  November,  1845,  to  have  necessitated  the  sending  of  a  spe- 
cial messenger  with  all  possible  speed  such  a  long  distance  to 
communicate  with  Captain  Fremont.  What  it  was,  it  is  easy 
enough  now  to  discover,  when  we  observe  that  war  with  Mexico 
breaks  out  on  the  Rio  Grande  on  the  eighth  and  ninth  of  May, 
1846,  the  battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la  Plama  being 
fought  on  those  days.  And  although  news  of  what  was  going 
on  there  could  not  reach  here  for  three  months  or  more,  it  may, 
with  substantial  truth,  be  said  that  the  war  broke  out  at  nearly 
the  same  time  in  the  Sacramento  Valley  as  on  the  Rio  Grande. 

"  The  sudden  reappearance  of  Captain  Fremont  and  his 
camp  at  the  Buttes,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Feather  River, 
called  back  from  his  journey  by  a  special  messenger  from  Wash- 
ington, was  enough  of  itself  to  create  instant  excitement  among 
the  settlers  throughout  the  northern  valleys.  All  accounts 
show  that  they  quickly  and  numerously  visited  Captain  Fre- 
mont's camp,  and  almost  immediately — that  is  to  say,  on  the 
eighth  of  June,  1846 — a  company  of  men,  consisting  of  trap- 
pers and  hunters,  and  in  part  of  men  belonging  to  the  exploring 
party,  went  suddenly  down  to  what  is  now  known  as  Knight's 
Landing,  in  Yolo  county,  and  captured  a  band  of  "horses  on  the 
way  to  General  Castro,  in  Monterey,  and  sending  a  defiant 
message  to  Castro  by  the  men  in  charge,  returned  with  the 
horses  to  Fremont's  camp. 

11  Of  course,  this  was  war,  as  much  as  that  on  the  Rio 
Grande,  and  it  broke  out  almost  precisely  at  the  same  time, 
although  the  places  were  thousands  of  miles  apart,  and  it 
would  take  several  months  for  the  news  to  pass  from  one  place 
to  another.  The  horses  were  not  l  Government  horses '  at  all, 
as  has  been  generally  supposed,  but  they  were  General  Vallejo's, 
sent  by  him,  forty  head  of  them,  for  General  Castro's  use, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  309 

according  to  previous  promise,  but  with  no  idea  whatever  of 
mounting  a  force  against  foreigners. 

"It  appears  to  he  very  plain  that  the  extraordinary  news 
from  "Washington  was  what  brought  Captain  Fremont  back 
from  Oregon,  and  the  next  act  that  emanates  from  his  camp  is 
an  act  of  war.  Whether  those  verbal  dispatches  authorized  him 
to  countenance  these  violent  proceedings  at  this  time,  we  have 
no  means  of  knowing,  except  by  inference  from  the  fact  that 
they  actually  took  place  with  his  sanction  and  co-operation. 
It  is  but  just  that  the  responsibility  in  this  matter  should  rest 
exactly  where  it  belongs,  and  that  is,  on  the  shoulders  of  the 
Government  of  the  United  States,  granting  that  Captain  Fre- 
mont did  not  exceed  his  authority. 

"  Captain  Fremont  was  an  officer  of  the  United  States 
Army,  and  wore  its  uniform  and  was  acting  as  he  did,  after 
having  received  instructions  from  his  Government  direct,  at 
great  cost.  Therefore  it  would  be  necessarily  understood, 
unless  he  stated  to  the  contrary,  which  he  did  not,  that  what 
he  approved  the  doing  of,  the  United  States  sanctioned.  And 
it  was  so  understood,  and  in  that  belief  the  men  of  that  day 
acted. 

"  The  taking  of  the  horses  necessitated  the  doing  of  more, 
and  the  doing  of  it  quickly.  This,  too,  was  perceived  at  Captain 
Fremont's  camp,  and  by  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  June 
10,  a  party  of  twenty  men,  led  by  one  Merritt,  set  out  to  cap- 
ture Sonoma.  Accessions  were  made  to  the  party  on  the  way, 
and  Sonoma  was  easily  taken,  for  although  there  were  there 
ten  pieces  of  artillery,  there  was  n'ot  a  solitary  soldier  there 
at  the  time,  except  General  Vallejo's  orderly,  and  in  the  cap- 
ture not  a  gun  was  fired. 

"  General  Vallejo  says  that  they  made  prisoners  of  himself, 
Captain  Salvador  Vallejo,  and  Colonel  Victor  Prudhomme,  on 
the  morning  of  Sunday,  June  14,  1846.  Jacob  P.  Leese  accom- 
panied the  prisoners  to  Captain  Fremont's  camp,  at  General 


310  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Vallejo'b  request,  as  interpreter,  and  on  their  arrival  there,  Mr. 
Leese  was  also  made  prisoner. 

"By  Captain  Fremont's  order,  these  four  prisoners  were 
taken  to  Slitter's  Fort,  and  Major  John  Bidwell  was  directed 
by  him  to  see  that  they  were  safely  kept.  Major  Bidwell 
afterwards  turned  over  his  charge  to  another,  and  went  to 
Sonoma,  joining  the  company  there  and  continuing  in  the 
service  till  the  close  of  hostilities  in  1847.  The  prisoners  were 
retained  at  the  fort  about  sixty  days,  until  the  change  of 
flag  in  the  country  had  been  fully  effected,  when  they  were 
released  by  order  of  Commodore  Stockton.  Of  the  party  of 
thirty-three  men  who  took  Sonoma,  twenty-four  were  left  to 
hold  possession  of  ic. 

"  Organizing  themselves  into  a  company,  they  chose  William 
B.  Ide,  Captain.  At  this  moment  they  notice  that  the  Mexican 
flag  is  still  flying  at  the  top  of  the  flag-staff.  It  is  at  once 
hauled  down,  but  what  shall  go  up  in  its  place  ?  They  are 
perplexed.  They  must  have  some  kind  of  a  flag  flying.  They 
think  about  a  "lone  star,"  but  they  know  that  Texas  has 
appropriated  that. 

"  They  are  agreed  that  they  will  have  a  star  in  their  flag,  but 
they  tax  their  wits  to  have  some  other  device  as  well.  A  piece 
of  common  cloth  is  obtained,  and  one  of  the  men  named  Wil- 
liam Todd  proceeds  to  paint,  from  a  pot  of  red  paint,  a  star  in 
the  corner. 

"  Henry  L.  Ford,  one  of  the  party,  proposes  to  paint  on  the 
center,  facing  the  star,  a  grizzly  bear.  This  is  unanimously 
agreed  to,  and  the  grizzly  bear  was  painted  accordingly. 
When  it  was  done,  the  flag  was  taken  to  the  flag-staff  and 
hoisted,  amid  the  hurrahs  of  the  little  party.  So  came  into 
existence  the  '  Bear  Flag,'  which  has  become  historic  in  Cali- 
fornia. 

"  Accounts  vary  somewhat  relative  to  it,  especially  as  to  the 
exact  date  of  its  raising ;  but  as  General  Vallejo  gives  the  date 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


311 


of  the  capture  of  Sonoma  to  have  been  June  14,  1846,  and  the 
flag  was  raised  on  the  same  day,  it  seems  to  be  the  best 
evidence  of  the  true  date.  Of  course  a  proclamation  was  issued 
in  the  name  of  the  party,  giving  reasons  for  the  course  they 
were  taking,  and  announcing  their  purposes. 


312  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTEli  XXVIII. 

The  Halcys  Again  —  Loss  of  the  "  Yankee  Blade  "  —  Timely  Arrival  of  the 
"Goliah"  —  The  Roughs  on  the  Wrecked  Steamer  —  Gallant  Exploit  of 
Captain  Haley  in  Rescuing  the  Unfortunates  —  How  the  Roughs  "Were 
Handled  on  the  "Goliah"  —  The  Russian  Frigate  "Diana"  and  the 
French  Man  of  War  "  Ambuscade  "  —  The  Great  Japan  Tidal  Wave  — 
Great  Destruction  of  Shipping—  The  "  Sea  Bird  "  Rides  Through  It. 


Haley's  were  the  first  names  mentioned  in  this 
truthful  history,  in  the  first  chapter  of  which  I  paid 
a  passing  tribute  to  glorious  old  Bob,  so  his  friends, 
and  he  had  no  enemies,  called  him.  In  Bob  the  old  saying 
that  '"'every  marked  and  sterling  character  has  enemies"  was 
negatived.  Bob  was  a  marked  character,  yet  in  my  long 
knowledge  of  and  acquaintance  with  Bob  Haley  I  never  saw 
the  man  that  could  be  his  enemy.  One  reason,  and  the  main 
one,  I  believe,  was  his  great  goodness  of  heart  and  noble  gen- 
erosity. A  great  part  of  his  life  was  passed  as  commander  of 
a  steamship,  and  for  several  years  he  ran  on  our  coast,  and  like 
Aleck  Bell  on  the  Tombigbee,  passengers  could  travel  on  his 
boat,  money  or  no  money.  So  great  a  bore  did  this  become  to 
Bully  Wright,  who  owned  one  of  the  steamships  that  Bob 
commanded,  that  to  put  a  stop  to  the  practice  he  commenced 
to  charge  him  for  every  deadhead  passenger  he  carried,  so  the 
result  was  that  when  poor  Bob's  wages  became  due  there  was 
nothing  due  him.  This  made  no  difference  whatever,  the  cap- 
tain would  carry  deadheads  any  way,  even  when  their  passage 
was  charged  to  hint  by  his  owners.  Alas  !  poor  Bob  Haley  ! 
his  likes  never  trod  the  deck  of  a  steamer. 

Captain  Saulsbury  Haley,.  Bob's  brother,  was  much  of  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  313 

same  ilk,  certainly  too  much  so  for  his  financial  credit  and  his 
general  pecuniary  prosperity.  (I  believe,  in  fact  I  am  sure, 
that  Haley,  in  his  old  age,  has  got  over  that  particular  trait.) 
I  think,  however,  that  Saulsbury  was  the  best  manager  of  'a 
steamship  and  the  most  daring  seaman  I  ever  knew,  and  by 
your  leave,  reader,  this  adventurous  Ranger  has  had  some 
experience  nautical  withal,  and  once  made  a  voyage  from  New 
York  to  Havana  on  a  canal  boat,  so  in  pronouncing  Saulsbury 
a  competent  and  daring  seaman  the  writer  declares  his  knowl- 
edge whereof  he  speaks.  I  made  many  trips  up  and  down  the 
coast  with  Captain  S.  Haley,  on  one  of  which  I  venture  to  say 
he  performed  one  of  the  most  remarkable,  dangerous  and  suc- 
cessful nautical  feats  known  in  the  history  of  seamanship. 

It  has  often  occurred  to  me  that  there  is  a  certain  defect  in 
our  system  of  republican  government  and  society-.  In  ancient 
Rome,  if  a  Roman  saved  the  life  of  a  Roman,  he  was  crowned 
with  laurels,  a  distinction  that  singled  him  out  and  made  him 
superior  to  his  fellows.  A  most  proper  thing  was  this  to  do,  a 
most  honorable  incentive  to  deeds  of  heroism  in  flood,  field,  and 
fire.  The  French,  in  imitation  of  their  Latin  ancestors,  reward 
acts  of  distinguished  merit  by  decorations,  with  the  "  Cross  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor."  How  does  our  Government  reward  our 
heroes  for  acts  of  conspicuous  daring  ?  Why,  it  just  don't 
reward  them  at  all,  and  if  our  boasted  American  nation 
degenerates  into  a  race  of  pusilanimous  poltroons,  then  the 
Government  will  reap  the  reward  of  their  own  folly  in  not  con- 
ferring marks  of  honorable  distinction,  as  did  the  Romans,  as 
do  the  French  and  every  other  nation  under  the  sun.  Now  I 
repeat,  that  if  the  Roman  who  saved  the  life  of  a  fellow-Roman 
was  crowned  with  laurels,  then  the  hero  of  the  present  remi- 
niscence, Captain  Haley,  should  wear  a  crown  as  ponderous  as 
tho  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  or,  if  a  Frenchman,  would  be  entitled 
to  wear  a  cross  as  large  as  that  which  surmounts  the  Church  of 
Notre  Dame.  For,  reader,  in  the  adventure  which  I  am  about 


314  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

to  relate,  Captain  Haley,  by  his  bravery,  humanity  and  superior 
seamanship,  saved  the  lives  of  more  than  five  hundred  men, 
women,  and  children  ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  it 
was. 

Haley  commanded  the  Goliah,  a  staunch  craft,  now,  in  1881, 
doing  good  service  on  Puget  Sound.  She  first  kissed  the  briny 
deep  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  in  1846,  having  been 
built  for  a  tow-boat  of  great  power.  The  Goliali  carried  a  few 
passengers,  among  whom  were  Aleck  Bell,  the  author,  Captain 
Burt,  a  man  of  nautical  note  at  the  time,  also  Charley 
Mathews,  John  Brannan,  John  McMullen,  and  a  party  of 
adventurers,  mostly  Texans,  armed  cap-a-pie,  and  on  their 
way  as  a  pioneer  prospecting  party  to  Arizona.  If  I  am  not 
mistaken,  Grant  Oury  was  of  the  party.  We  sailed  past  the 
•Golden  Gate  at  about  four  o'clock,  having  been  preceded  about 
six  hours  by  the  great  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company's 
steamer  Sonora,  and  the  Yankee  Blade,  an  opposition  steamer, 
with  about  1200  passengers.  This  was  in  October. '54.  We 
steamed  beautifully  on  our  way  all  night,  stopping  at  way 
ports  during  the  day,  and  early  on  the  second  morning  ran  into 
a  heavy  fog  bank,  ajid  were  feeling  our  way  along  carefully, 
when  all  at  once  we  heard  the  roar  of  breakers  close  on  our  port 
quarter,  which  created  quite  an  alarm.  Haley  at  once  com- 
menced to  change  our  course  more  to  starboard,  when,  above 
the  roar  of  the  breakers,  which  was  not  heavy,  we  heard 
the  cry  of  a  thousand  human  voices  for  help.  It  seemed 
•as  though  we  were  rapidly  nearing  the  breakers  and  the 
place  from  whence  proceeded  the  cries  for  help.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  were  headed  off  from  the  roar  of  the  breakers  and 
the  sounds  of  human  woe.  Nothing  is  more  solemnly  terri- 
fying than  to  be  on  shipboard  near  the  breakers  and  in  a  fog 
bank,  but  add  to  this  the  knowledge  of  being  in  close  proxi- 
mity to  a  wreck  is  awe  added  to  terror,  and  is  paralyzing  to  the 
bravest  heart.  About  the  time,  we  were  headed  off,  the  fog 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  315 

lifted  almost  as  perceptibly  as  the  raising  of  a  curtain,  and  lo  ! 
within  a  cable's  length  lay  a  large  steamer,  which  proved  to  be 
the  Yankee  Blade  a  hopeless  wreck,  her  deck  swept  by  the 
breakers  and  the  hundreds  of  passengers  in  the  rigging,  on  the 
roofs  and  bridge,  clinging  to  the  rail  and  shrouds,  presenting 
one  of  the  most  awful  pictures  one  can  well  imagine.  The  sea 
was  comparatively  smooth,  yet  the  swell  was  heavy  and  the 
breakers  were  rough.  The  wrecked  steamer  lay  considerable 
distance  from  the  shore,  head  on,  having  settled  on  a  sunken 
rock  which  pierced  her  bottom  amidships,  0:1  the  northwest  side 
of  Point  Arguello,  the  most  northern  point  of  Point  Concep- 
cion,  and  had  struck  at  about_  midnight.  She  was  many  miles 
out  of  her  direct  route,  which  at  the  time  was  ascribed  to  one 
of  two  causes — one  was  a  great  variation  in  the  magnetic 
needle  caused  by  a  supposed  local  attraction,  and  the  second 
that  a  crowd  of  organized  roughs  had  taken  passage  on  board 
the  ill-fated  steamer  with  intent  to  beach  and  rob  her,  there 
being  the  regular  bi-monthly  shipment  of  one  and  a  half 
million  or  more  dollars  in  gold  dust,  besides  that  carried  by 
the  passengers;  that  the  roughs  had  surreptitiously  changed 
the  compass,  which  caused  the  stranding  of  the  steamer  as  we 
have  found  her.  This  last  proposition  was  supported  by  the 
fact  that  as  soon  as  the  steamer  settled,  the  roughs  first  broke 
into  the  store-room  and  captured  the  liquors,  and  then  com- 
menced the  pillage  of  passengers,  many  of  the  crew  uniting 
with  the  roughs.  They  also  possessed  themselves  of  the  boats, 
and  when  sufficient  gold  had  been  secured,  was  placed  in  a 
boat  manned  by  them,  and  started  for  the  shore.  The  boat 
swamped  in  the  breakers  and  the  pirates  and  their  gold  went 
down  together.  The  other  of  the  steamer's  boats  were  lost  in 
the  same  manner,  until  but  one  small  boat  of  capacity  to 
carry  a  half  dozen  people  at  a  time  remained.  The  stern  of 
the  Yankee  Blade  had  settled  to  thirty  feet  below  the  water 
level  and  her  head  had  raised  correspondingly  high,  so  that  her 


316  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

deck  line  was  at  an  angle  of  about  forty  degrees.  The 
wounded  monster  labored  heavily  and  was  liable  at  any  mo- 
ment to  break  in  two  amidships.  It  was  a  marine  impossibility 
to  approach  her  with  a  boat  in  the  ordinary  way,  and  Captain 
Haley  resolved  upon  a  plan  that  seemed  original  and  extremely 
dangerous  to  his  own  vessel,  and  as  expressed  by  many  seamen 
on  board  at  the  time,  as  most  certain  to  insure  the  destruction 
of  the  Goliah. 

When  remonstrated  with  on  the  fool-hardy  venture,  Captain 
Haley  said  :  "  It  is  the  only  possible  way  to  save  those  unfor- 
tunate people.  There  are  over  a  thousand  of  them  while  there 
is  less  than  a  hundred  of  us,  and .  if  they  are  lost  then  we  will 
go  together."  The  plan  adopted  and  carried  out  was  as  fol- 
lows: The  Goliah  being  headed  off  backed  in  as  near  the  wreck 
as  deemed  safe,  and  a  buoy  was  attached  to  a  line,  dropped 
overboard  and  drifted  to  and  was  secured  and  drawn  on  board 
the  Yankee  Blade,  to  which  was  attached  the  ship's  great 
hawser  which,  in  turn,  was  hauled  on  board  the  Goliah,  and 
when  safely  secured  steam  was  turned  on  and  the  hawser  was 
drawn  taut,  then  the  anchors  of  the  Goliah  were  carried 
ahead  and  cast,  and  heaving  ahead  on  the  windlas,  as  well  as 
the  steam  propelling  force,  drew  that  hawser  as  taut  as  a 
fiddle  string.  The  next  thing  was  to  swing  one  of  the  Goliah's 
boats  by  loops  to  this  hawser,  attach  a  line  to  one  end  of  the 
boat,  float  the  end  of  the  line  on  board  the  wrecked  steamer,  by 
which  the  boat  was  drawn  over,  sometimes  being  suspended 
high  above  the  water,  and  having  another  rope  attached  to  her 
she  was  drawn  back  to  the  Goliah  laden  with  living  freight. 
And  Oh  !  such  freight  as  came  off  in  the  first  few  trips  of  our 
hammock-like  craft.  The  roughs  had  full  control  on  board 
the  unfortunate  craft,  and  were  the  first  to  be  saved.  Haley 
roared  through  his  trumpet  to  the  captain  of  the  Yankee 
Blade,  "  Send  the  women  and  children  off  first."  Still  the 
roughs  must  be  thinned  out  before  the  officers  could  control  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  317 

debarkation.  In  an  hour  one  hundred  roughs  were  on  board 
the  Goliah,  and  the  women  and  children  commenced  to  cross 
the  bridge  in  a  lively  manner,  and  soon  it  became  necessary  to 
commence  to  dispose  of  our  accumulated  cargo  of  living  freight. 
The  two  remaining  boats  of  the  Goliah  having  found  a  safe 
lauding  place,  now  commenced  to  remove  the  accumulating 
cargo  to  the  land;  for  bear  in  mind,  reader,  the  Goliah  was,  as 
compared  with  the  wrecked  monster,  a  mere  launch.  Up  to 
this  time,  however,  the  Goliah 's  people  had  not  heard  of  the 
roughs  and  their  piratical  acts  on  board  the  Yankee  Blade. 
However,  those  who  had  come  on  board  took  possession  of  the 
cabins,  including  the  ladies',  and  when  requested  by  Captain 
Haley  to  vacate  in  favor  of  the  rescued  women  and  chil- 
dren informed  him  that  they  had  commanded  "  the  Yankee 
Blade  and  while  on  board  the  Goliah  would  do  as  they 
thought  proper."  Haley  remonstrated  with  them  in  vain,  and 
being  informed  by  a  lady  passenger  of  their  character  and 
doings  on  board  the  wreck,  took  a  most  decided  step  to  subject 
them  to  absolute  control.  In  the  meantime  the  sea  rolled,  and 
the  staunch  old  Goliah,  God  bless  her,  strained,  groaned  and 
writhed  in  agony  as  a  living  victim  when  stretched  upon  a 
rack,  and  all  on  board  thought  she  would  be  pulled  in  pieces 
Haley  called  on  Aleck  Bell  and  asked  him  to  organize  in  one 
compact  body,  make  a  sudden  assault  on  the  roughs  and  drive 
them  forward  into  the  steerage  and  place  them  under  guard, 
but  in  no  case  was  a  revolver  to  be  fired,  unless  in  absolute 
self-defense.  "Hit  them  over  the  heads,"  said  Haley,  "but 
don't  shoot;  I  desire  this  to  be  a  bloodless  victory."  Still  the 
successful  transfer  of  passengers  went  bravely  ,on.  Soon  the 
armed  Goliah' s  passengers,  under  Aleck  Bell,  quietly  (all  who 
were  not  seasick),  by  a  successful  manoeuvre,  took  possession  of 
the  after  end  of  the  cabin  and  Aleck  gave  the  order,  "All  of 
the  men  in  this  cabin  will  go  forward  to  the  steerage;  the  cabin 
is  to  be  exclusively  devoted  to  the  ladies  and  children."  No 


318  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

one  moved.  "  Charge  'em,  boys,"  said  Aleck,  at  the  same  time 
belting;  a  rough  bully  on  the  head  with  his  revolver,  and  "at 
'em"  it  was.  The  onset  was  so  sadden,  so  unexpected,  so 
different  from  what  they  looked  for,  that  they  at  once  gave 
way,  and  like  sheep  were  driven  into  the  steerage,  where  John 
McMullen,  with  a  picked  guard,  kept  them  until  Captain 
Burt  and  Charley  Mathews,  both  passengers,  in  command  of 
boats,  were  ready  to  commence  removing  the  rapidly  accumu- 
lating living  cargo  to  the  providentially  found  landing  place. 
Then  the  roughs  were  marched  out  of  the  steerage  in  detach- 
ments through  files  armed  with  revolvers,  placed  in  the  Goliah's 
boats  and  sent  on  shore. 

All  day  the  transfer  of  passengers  went  on,  without  an  acci- 
dent ;  all  day  the  gallant  Goliah  groaned,  labored  and  creaked, 
with  waves  sometimes  breaking  over  her  bows  and  washing  her 
decks.  Still  no  accident  had  occurred,  and  at  sunset  the  last 
soul  on  board  the  wreck  had  been  safely  transferred  to  the 
Goliah,  nearly  half  of  whom  had  been  retransferred  to  the  land, 
with  water  and  provisions  enough  landed  with  them  to  do  them 
for  a  day  or  two,  and  this  brilliant  nautical  feat  was  a  splendid 
success.  But  none  too  soon,  for  by  this  time  the  wind  had 
commenced  to  blow,  and  by  dark  had  become  a  gale,  and  by 
the  time  the  Goliah  was  well  clear  of  her  dangerous  neighbor, 
and  before  dark  obscured  our  vision  the  gallant  Yankee  Blade, 
with  her  golden  treasure,  broke  in  two  amidships,  and  sunk  in 
deep  water.  The  gallant  Goliah,  with  her  happy  crew,  brave 
commander,  and  thankful  passengers,  after  a  rough  night  of  it, 
reached  Santa  Barbara,  discharged  a  part  of  her  human  freight, 
and  thence  to  San  Pedro,  where  more  were  put  on  shore,  while 
the  remainder  were  taken  to  San  Diego  and  left,  and  the 
staunch  old  steamer  hurried  back,  and  took  on  board  all  that 
had  been  landed  on  the  beacli  at  the  place  of  the  wreck,  and 
carried  them  in  safety  to  San  Francisco,  all  without  a  single 
casualty ;  and  save  some  forty  or  fifty  lives  that  were  lost  in 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  319 

the  swamping  of  the  boats  of  the  Yankee  Blade  before  the- 
Goliah  arrived,  all  of  that  hive  of  human  beings  were  carried 
back  in  safety  to  San  Francisco.  Will  the  reader  now  agree 
with  the  author,  that  the  gallant  Captain  Haley  was  entitled 
to  a  reward  of  honor  equal  to  any  ever  conferred  by  ancient 
Rome  or  modern  France  ?  And  had  he  been  an  Englishman,, 
the  Cross  of  Victoria,  at  least,  would  have  been  conferred  on 
him,  to  be  treasured  up  as  a  reminder  to  his  descendants  of  the 
noble  deed  of  their  ancestor. 

Haley  commanded  the  Sea  Bird  in  '52.  He  commanded 
her  again  in  '55  and  '56.  That  floating  beauty  came  near,  in 
'55,  sharing  the  fate  of  a  Russian  frigate,  a  United  States  war 
ship,  and  a  large  number  of  other  vessels  that  were  lost,  and 
from  the  same  cause,  to  wit:  the  great  Japan  tidal  wave. 
Some  of  our  readers  will  remember  that  early  in  '55,  the  Rus- 
sian frigate  Diana  sailed  northward  along  our  coast  and 
entered  the  harbor  of  San  Francisco,  which  created  quite  a 
sensation,  as  the  French  frigate  Ambuscade  was  then  -riding 
quietly  at  anchor  in  the  harbor,  and  the  Diana  dropped  her 
mud  hooks  within  pistol  shot  of  the  Ambuscade.  We  all 
thought  they  would  go  beyond  the  legal  marine  league  and 
have  a  pitched  battle,  the  Crimean  war  bsing  then  in  full 
blast. 

Not  so,  however.  The  two  warlike  antagonists  frowned  on 
each  other,  and  that  was  all.  except  that  when  it  happened 
that  sailors  from  the  two  hostile  craft  would  meet  on  shore, 
broken  heads  and  bloody  noses  would  be  the  result,  until  the 
authorities  intervened  and  it  was  mutually  agreed  that  when  the 
Parlez  Vous  went  on  shore  the  Bears  on  board  the  Diana  would 
be  notified  by  signal  and  remain  on  board  until  the  French 
sailors  returned.  The  Diana  people  did  the  same  in  respect  to 
the  Ambuscade  and  everything  moved  quietly  along  until  one 
day  the  Diana  beat  to  quarters,  hove  up  her  anchor,  played 
some  warlike  Russian  air,  spread  her  sails  and  proudly  passed 


320  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGEK. 

out  of  the  Golden  Gate.  All  San  Francisco  was  on  the  tiptoe 
of  excitement  expecting,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  Ambuscade 
would  go  forth  and  engage  her.  Such,  however,  was  not  the 
case.  The  Ambuscade  rode  quietly  at  her  anchor  and  the 
Diana  sailed  northward  touching  at  Sitka,  and  at  last  crossed 
over  and  came  to  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Yokohama  in  ten 
fathoms  of  water.  Now  this  may  have  been  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  year  '55,  but  at  the  time  there  occurred  in  the  Japan 
Islands  some  tremendous  earthquakes  which  made  match  wood 
of  the  Diana  and  left  her  and  her  anchors  on  dry  land  where 
before  was  ten  fathoms  of  water.  There  was  great  destruction 
of  shipping  in  the  Japan  seas.  A  United  States  war  ship  was 
lost  and  hundreds  of  vessels  were  never  heard  from,  and  this 
great  earthquake  in  Japan  caused  a  tidal  wave  which  reached 
and  struck  our  coast  in  thirty-eight  hours,  traveling  at  the  rate 
of  over  two  miles  a  minute.  The  tidal  gauge  at  San  Diego 
showed  a  rise  or  twelve  feet  in  one  night,  a  most  remarkable 
circumstance. 

This  immense  wave  struck  our  little  sea  swan,  so  she  should 
have  been  called,  at  about  daylight  off  Point  Pedro,  seventeen 
miles  S.  E.  of  the  Golden  Gate,  she  being  the  only  vessel  out- 
side the  heads  at  the  time,  and  the  only  one  that  ever  gave 
any  account  of  its  appearance  and  effect.  -Haley  sat  beside  the 
pilot-house  and  was  sleeping  in  his  chair.  First  Officer  How- 
land  was  on  watch  and  saw  in  the  dim  distance  the  coming 
danger  and  awoke  the  captain.  When  thus  seen  it  was  appar- 
ently about  ten  miles  off  and  looked  like  an  immense  black 
cloud,  such  as  we  see  in  the  tropics.  Whatever  it  was,  danger 
therefrom  was  imminent.  The  passengers  were  aroused  and 
ordered  to  prepare  themselves  and  stand  ready  with  their 
life-preservers.  The  brave  little  steamer  was  brought  to  and 
made  to  look  the  danger  square  in  the  face  and  by  the  time 
this  was  done  the  black,  white  crested  roaring  wall  of  water 
was  almost  upon  them.  Ports  were  hastily  closed,  windows 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  321 

and  doors  shut,  hatches  battened  down,  and  everything  put  in 
ship-shape  to  meet  the  unlooked  for  danger  and  ride  through 
or  go  under  it  and  down  forever.  Very  little  swell  preceded  it. 
Howland,  assisted  by  the  Quartermaster,  took  the  wheel,  the 
watch  caught  on  to  the  rigging,  and  as  the  roaring  wrath 
of  mighty  ocean  towered  in  its  threatening  grandeur  above 
them,  Haley  shouted  "  Steady,  Howland,  steady  ! "  "  Steady 
it  is,  sir ! "  was  the  firm  response,  and  in  a  moment  the  decks 
of  the  gallant  steamer  were  deluged  with  rushing  water.  The 
vessel  was  absolutely  .submerged;  the  mighty  force  of  the  ocean 
was  over  her,  under  and  around  her,  roaring,  hissing,  lashing 
the  sides  of  the  frail  bark,  thumping  her  bottom  and  sweeping 
her  deck;  her  boats  were  smashed,  torn  from  their  lashings  and 
swept  away  as  though  they  were  snowflakes.  The  poor  craft 
trembled,  groaned  and  struggled  like  a  living  thing  to  free 
herself  from  her  mighty  foe.  Man  was  then  made  to  feel  his 
utter  insignificance  in  midst  of  the  mighty  ocean  when  lashed 
into  angry  fury  by  '"'Him  who  holds  the  sea  in  the  palm  of  His 
hand."  In  a  few  minutes  the  watery  scourge  had  done  its 
worst,  and  like  a  thing  of  life  the  proud  little  sea  queen  shook 
the. billows  from  her  palpitating  bosom  and  was  free. 


322  REMINISCENCES   OF   A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

More  Pioneer  Staging  —  Banning  Again  —  A  Rough  Ride — Dangerous 
Driving — Fort  Tejon  and  Its  Commander — W.  S.  Hancock,  A.  Q.  M. — 
The  Kern  River  Excitement — A  Grand  Rush — The  First  Train  Going 
North — Don  David  Alexander — A  Reminiscence  of  Cerbol  Barelas  and 
the  Path-Finder — Stoneman  and  Others. 


first  chapter  of  this  history  was  in  part  devoted 
to  staging  between  San  Pedro  and  the  Angel  City. 
Banning  was  unceremoniously  presented  to  the  reader 
therein  with  far  less  ceremony  than  his  great  importance 
demanded.  It  is  true  that  in  a  subsequent  chapter  this 
pioneer  hero  was  brought  to  the  front  of  our  Fourth  of  July 
Phalanx  in  the  memorable  and  patriotic  celebration  at  San 
Pedro  in  '53,  and  was  designated  as  General,  although  at  that 
time  Banning  was  not  a  General,  unless,  perchance,  like  Phil 
Sheridan  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte  Forest,  he  was  born  with 
two  stars  on  each  of  his  shoulders,  the  truth  of  which  I  am 
willing  to  asseverate  and  maintain  to  the  bitter  end.  Banning 
in  early  times  could  ride  farther  with  less  fatigue  than  any 
man  I  ever  knew,  notwithstanding  he  was  never  a  light  weight. 
He  could  also  drive  a  stage,  six-in-hand,  faster  and  over 
rougher  roads  and  over  places  where  no  roads  existed  than 
any  driver  who  ever  cracked  whip  or  pulled  the  ribbons. 
When  Fort  Tejon  was  established  the  firm  of  Alexander  & 
Banning  wished  to  run  a  six-horse  stage  over  an  old  Mexican 
pack  trail,  and  when  the  whole  country  declared  the  impossi- 
bility of  such  an  enterprise,  and  when  no  driver  could  be  found 
with  sufficient  hardihood  to  assume  such  responsibility,  Ban- 
ning willed  the  thing  to  be  done,  and  mounted  the  box  in 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  323 

person  and  drove  the  first .  stage  that  ever  went  out  of  the 
Valley  of  the  Angels  to  astonish  the  aborigines  in  the  moun- 
tain fastnesses  beyond.  At  the  time,  the  trail  going  over  the 
San  Fernando  pass  was  a  rocky  acclivity,  difficult  of  ascent  by 
even  a  pack  mule,  and  descending  to  the  valley  beyond  with  a 
descent  of  equal  abruptness.  Standing  on  the  summit  and  look- 
ing northward  a  precipice  of  many  hundred  feet  lay  before  you. 
By  facing  about  you  dizzily  marvel  at  how  you  reached  the 
rocky  summit. 

In  December  '54  Phineas  Banning  sat  on  the  box  of  his 
Concord  stage,  to  which  were  harnessed  a  half  dozen  well  fed, 
panting  and  foaming  mustangs.  He  had  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  summit  of  the  San  Fernando,  and  the  question  among 
his  nine  wondering  passengers  who  had  toiled  up  the  moun- 
tain on  foot  was,  how  that  stage  could  ever  descend,  all 
declaring  it  an  act  of  madness  to  attempt  it.  Banning 
laughingly  assured  them  that  it  "was  all  right;  that  a 
man  who  couldn't  drive  a  stage  safely  down  that  hill  was  no 
driver  at  all,  and  should  confine  himself  to  ox-teaming  in  the 
valley."  Now  he  cracks  his  whip,  tightens  his  lines,  whistles 
to  his  trembling  mustangs,  and  urges  them  to  the  brink  oi 
the  precipice,  and  in  a  moment  they  are  going  down !  down  ! 
down  !  racketty  clatter  bang  !  Sometimes  the  horses  ahead  of 
the  stage,  and  sometimes  the  stage  ahead  of  the  horses,  all, 
however,  going  down !  down  with  a  crash  !  Finally,  the  con- 
glomeration of  chains,  harness,  coach,  mustangs  and  Banning 
were  found  by  the  pursuing  passengers  in  an  inextricable  mass 
of  confusion — contusions,  scratches,  bruises,  batters,  cracks  and 
breaks,  forming  a  general  smash  and  pile  up  in  a  thicket  of 
chaparral  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so,"  said  Banning,  "a  beautiful  descent, 
far  less  difficult  than  I  anticipated.  I  intended  that  staging  to 
Fort  Tejon  and  Kern  river  should  be  a  success.  Gentlemen, 
you  see  my  judgment  is  good." 


324  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

However,  Banning  sent  back  a  courier  in  hot  haste,  urging 
Don  David  to  send  fifty  men  immediately  to  repair  parts  of  the 
road  that  he  in  his  descent  had  knocked  out  of  joint.  Twenty- 
two  years  thereafter  the  S.  P.  R.  R.  Company  cleared  away  the 
thicket  in  which  Banning  made  his  first  stage  stand,  in  exca- 
vating their  wonderful  San  Fernando  tunnel.  This  reckless 
demonstration  of  the  practicability  of  staging  out  of  the  valley 
so  stimulated  our  angel  merchants,  that  they  raised  a  fund  of 
several  thousand  dollars,  and  employe*!  such  a^  force  of  men  on 
the  San  Fernando,  that  in  February  following  Don  David 
Alexander  and  the  writer  hereof  passed  over  with  a  train  of 
heavy  ten-mule  teams,  which  was  the  first  train  going  north. 
We  had  a  terrible  time  of  it,  however,  and  in  the  San  Francis- 
quito  canon  were  caught  in  a  snow  storm,  and  were  three  days 
in  going  one  mile,  building  our  road  as  we  advanced. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  B.  L.  Beall,  1st  Dragoons,  with  Winfield 
Scott  Hancock  as  Quartermaster,  and  Lieutenant  John  Pegram 
•as  Adjutant,  founded  Fort  Tejon  in  '54.  I  afterwards,  in  1861, 
met  Pegram  at  Beverly,  in  West  Virginia,  after  his  surrender  to 
the  Great  Western  Napoleon  at  Rich  Mountain,  Pegram  having 
commanded  the  Confederate  force  at  that  stronghold,  and  per- 
mitted himself  to  be  most  beautifully  outflanked  and  surrounded 
by  McLellan,  who  cut  a  road  through  the  mountains,  and 
thereby  gained  his  rear.  The  distress  and  chagrin  of  Pegram 
was  beyond  description.  He  was  ambitious,  and  had  resigned 
his  commission  in  the  old,  and  accepted  a  Colonelcy  in  the  new 
3,rmy,  and  to  have  lost  his  first  command  in  the  way  he  did  was 
ovei  whelming  to  his  pride.  He,  however,  retrieved  himself, 
and  became  quite  distinguished  as  a  Confederate  Brigadier,  and 
was  killed  in  one  of  the  great  battles  fought  around  Richmond 
during  the  last  days  of  the  lost  cause.  W.  S.  Hancock, 
A.  Q.  M..  became  so  brilliantly  illustrious  that  no  mention  of 
him  will  in  this  chronicle  be  necessary. 

Col.    Beall,   however,  deserves   some   consideration.     When 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  325 

nominal  commander  at  Fort  Tejon  he  was  old,  seventy  years, 
and  had  been  on  the  frontier  all  his  life  ;  was  a  case ;  indeed 
he  was  a  hard  case,  and  as  such  his  fame  extended  from  the 
Mississippi  River  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  On  account  of  his 
case-hardened  character  he  was  seldom  permitted  to  visit 
Washington,  or  any  of  the  Eastern  cities.  But  once  upon  a 
time  he  went,  and  so  scandalized  the  sober  heads  at  the  capital, 
that  they  hurried  him  away  to  fields,  in  their  opinion,  more 
congenial,  beyond  the  Mississippi. 

On  that  occasion,  however,  he  extended  his  visit  to  virtuous 
Boston,  and  was  invited  to  a  State  dinner  presided  over  by  the 
Mayor.  It  was  emphatically  a  Boston  dinner — and  the  world 
knows  that  Boston  never  goes  back  on  her  virtuous  record,  so 
as  a  consequence,  the  dinner  to  which  this  rollicking  old 
frontier  Colonel  was  invited  was  a  temperance  dinner.  When 
the  guests  were  seated  and  dining  commenced,  Colonel  Beall 
was  astonished  at  not  seeing  decanters,  bottles,  and  all  of  the 
paraphernalia  of  the  kind  of  dinner  he  had  anticipated.  Time 
wore  apace  and  no  bottle  appeared.  The  Colonel  became  dis- 
consolate. It  was  to  him  a  cruel  disappointment.  It  was 
emphatically  a  dry  dinner.  Some  toasts  were  dryly  given  and 
dryly  responded  to.  and  the  Colonel  was  called  upon  to  respond 
to  a  toast  "The  Army,"  but  flatly  refused,  saying  that  he  had 
" never  made  a  speech  in  his  life."  "Well,  then,"  said  the 
President,  "  Colonel,  tell  us  a  story;  something  about  the 
campaigns  through  which  you  have  passed."  "  A  story  !  "  "A 
story  ! "  demanded  the  dinner  party. 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  'The  Ghost  of  New  Mexico/" 

'•'  G-ood  !  A  ghost  story,"  cried  the  party  with  due  Boston 
decorum  and  gravity. 

"  Well,"  began  the  Colonel,  "  It  was  in  1846,  the  army  was 
crossing  the  plains  in  the  march  on  New  Mexico,  and  went  into 
camp,  dry  and  dusty,  within  two  days'  march  of  Sante  Fe.  It 
was  late  when  our  tents  were  pitched  and  the  sentinels  posted 


326  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

for  the  night.  We  were  over  vigilant,  as  being  so  near  the  New 
Mexican  capital  we  didn't  know  at  what  moment  the  enemy's 
cavalry  might  pounce  upon  us.  The  night  was  dark  and  dis- 
mal; the  wind  blew  in  fitful  gusts  and  the  tents  fluttered  and 
flapped,  and  a  general  gloom  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole 
encampment.  To  relieve  my  own  disquiet  I  visited  the 
marquee  of  a  neighboring  officer,  and  found  quite  a  number  of 
visitors,  who,  like  myself,  were  in  quest  of  something  wherewith 
to  sooth  the  dismal  cravings  of  the  spirit.  A  game  of  seven-up 
was  proposed  for  liquor,  and  on  the  first  wager  being  won  and 
lost  it  was  discovered  that  some  untoward  accident  had  befallen 
the  sutler  and  not  a  drop  was  to  be  had  for  love  or  money. 
We  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay — a  night  without  something 
to  drink  !  Such  a  direful  calamity  had  not  been  contemplated 
by  the  most  despondent 'of  our  party,  and  the  announcement 
was  a  blow;  indeed  it  was,  gentlemen.  Still,  we  agreed  to  play 
on,  and  if  by  the  favor  of  providence  a  supply  should  ever  be 
reached  then  each  loser  would  pay  up  and  we  would  make 
amends  for  this  night  of  dire  disappointment.  The  g;ime  went 
on  dolefully. 

"  The  wind  continued  to  blow,  and  the  tent  rocked  to  and 
fro  in  its  determined  efforts  to  keep  its  pins,  the  sentries  paced 
their  beats,  the  coyotes  howled,  the  horses  neighed,  and  the 
mules  let  off  brays  of  solemn  distress.  It  was  midnight — the 
hour  when  ghosts  do  walk  abroad.  We  played,  but  scarce  a 
word  was  spoken.  My  back  was  toward  the  opening  of  the 
tent,  and  instinctively  I  turned  around,  feeling  that  some  one 
was  entering,  and  oh  !  horror !  My  blood  froze  in  my  veins,  my 
eye-balls  almost  burst  from  th^ir  sockets,  and  my  tongue  clove 
to  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  as  I  vainly  tried  to  speak.  I  beheld 
standing  within  the  marquee  a  tall,  gaunt  form,  clad  in  the 
habiliments  of  the  grave,  its  bony  arm  extended,  and  its  finger 
raised  in  solemn  admonition.  Like  myself,  my  comrades  sat 
frozen  and  speechless.  Not  a  word,  save  those  sepulchral 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  327 

sounds  of  doleful  import  which  came  from  the  ghost.  It 
spoke" — and  the  Colonel,  in  apparent  exhaustion,  with  his 
hands  clasped  upon  his  breast,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
groaned. 

"What  did  it  say  ?"  was  the  general  inquiry. 

"  What  did  it  say  ?  "  echoed  the  Colonel.  "  What  should  it 
have  said  ?  It  spoke  such  words  as  had  never  before  been 
heard  by  any  of  that  congregation  of  warriors,  such  words  as  I 
fear  to  repeat,  such  words  as  I  hope  never  more  to  hear  on  this 
earth  " — and  again  the  Colonel  groaned. 

"  What  did  it  say  ?  "  queried  the  excited  listeners. 

"What  did  it  say?"  re-echoed  the  Colonel.  "It  said: 
'  Gentlemen  !  Oil !  gentlemen !  gentlemen  !  it's  a  long  time 
between  DRINKS  ! ' ' 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  for  once  Boston  relaxed  its  gravity, 
and  that  for  once  wine  flowed  freely  at  the  winding  up  of  a 
Boston  dinner  party  ;  because  even  the  people  of  Boston  could, 
and  did  on  that  occasion,  take  a  liquid  hint,  and  Boston  never 
does  things  by  halves,  and  as  a  consequence  liquidated  liberally. 
Col.  Beall  ever  spoke  in  terms  of  affectionate  remembrance  of 
that  liquid  Boston  dinner  party. 

In  saying  Colonel  Beall  was  the  nominal  commander  at  Fort 
Tejon,  the  same  can  be  said  as  to- the  Quartermaster,  the  truth 
being,  as  I  verily  believe,  that  the  gallant  General  Phineas 
Banning  ran  the  post,  as  he  did  his  supply  trains  and  his  six- 
horse  stages.  He  ran  Fort  Tejon  as  in  yore  he  ran  San  Pedro, 
and  as  he  always  has  Wilmington,  city  and  harbor.  Whatever 
Banning  suggested  at  the  fort  was  done,  and  nothing  was  done 
unless  he  was  consulted.  From  Fort  Tejon  to  Los  Angeles  is 
120  miles — as  rough  a  road  as  is  to  be  found  anywhere.  Ban- 
ning used  to  ride  it  in  a  day  on  horseback,  leaving  the  fort  after 
sunrise  and  arriving  at  Los  Angeles  sometimes  by  four  o'clock 
p.  M.  I  make  this  statement  on  personal  knowledge. 

Banning  was  always  lucky.     In    his  reckless  staging  nine 


328  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

men  out  of  every  ten  would  have  broken  their  bones,  if  noth-  ' 
ing  worse.  He  once  made  a  miraculous  escape  from  a  frightful 
marine  disaster.  He  owned  a  pretty  little  steamer  called  the 
Ada  Hancock,  before  the  harbor  improvements  at  "Wilmington, 
used  for  carrying  passengers  to  the  steamers  at  their  anchorage. 
On  one  of  her  trips  down  the  bay  her  boiler  exploded,  killing 
Captain  Seely  of  the  coast  steamer  and  many  of  the  passengers. 
Banning  was  not  blown  over  the  clouds,  because  it  was  on  a 
cloudless  day,  but  he  was  blown  high  enough  and  far  enough 
to  land  him  on  a  sand  bar  safe  and  sound.  The  General  was 
born  at  Wilmington,  Delaware,  and  is  fifty-one  years  old. 

Now  to  come  back  to  Don  David  Alexander,  of  whom  I 
spoke  in  a  former  chapter,  and  of  his  story-telling  talents. 
On  that  trip  to  Kern  River  with  those  heavy  teams,  in  our 
camps  at  night,  after  strong  coffee,  before  a  blazing,  com- 
fortable fire,  with  a  good  cigar,  Don  David  forgeting  the 
terrible  annoyances  and  harassing  labors  of  the  day,  and  his 
oft-repeated  declaration  that  "this  is  only  a  pack-mule 
country,  that  none  other  than  a  madman  would  attempt  the 
passage  of  these  mountains  with  wagons,  and  if  he  did  any 
more  freighting  hitherward  it  would  be  in  the  only  sensible, 
practicable  way,  by  pack-mules."  *  *  *  *  °  One  year 
and  a  half  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  has  passed  and 
Don  David,  hale  and  hearty,  strong  and  stubborn,  now  whirls 
over  his  "pack-mule  country"  in  the  palace  cars  of  that  mar- 
vel of  the  age,  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  Company.  The 
memory  of  Don  David  may  not  be  as  strong  and  enduring  as 
his  rawhide  constitution,  and  I  take  pleasure  in  reminding  him 
of  the  wonderful  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the  manner 
and  time  of  traversing  the  roughest  of  our  southern  Sierras, 
and  point  to  him  what  science,  money  and  well  directed  enter- 
prise can  do  and  has  done  for  even  a  "pack-mule  country." 
Forgetting  the  troubles  of  the  day  under  the  exhilaration  of 
coffee  and  cigar,  Don  David  would  tell  us  a  story,  and  on  one- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  329 

occasion  he  told   me  of  his  capture,  imprisonment  and  parol 
by  the  Californians. 

During  the  war  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico  Don 
David  was  made  prisoner  at  the  Chino  Ranch,  with  the  com- 
pany under  Capt.  B.  D.  Wilson.  Cerbol  Barelas  and  Diego 
Sepulveda  commanded  the  captors  of  this  party,  most  of  whom, 
having  lived  so  long  under  the  Mexican  flag,  and  having  par- 
taken of  all  of  the  good  things  of  this  angel  land,  were  looked 
upon  by  their  irate  captors  as  traitors  deserving  death  ;  conse- 
quently there  was  a  general  clamor  that  the  traitor  gringos 
should  be  shot.  At  this  point  as  noble  a  character  came  to  the 
front  as  ever  wielded  a  lance  or  wore  knightly  spur.  Santa 
Ana.  President  of  Mexico,  a  man  first  among  the  rulers  of  the 
earth,  of  superior  learning,  of  pure  Castilian  blood,  a  warrior 
of  renown,  cast  a  blot,  a  stain,  an  indelible  blotch,  upon  the 
fame  of  Mexico,  by  his  treacherous  cruelty  in  butchering,  in 
cold  blood,  the  captive  partisans  of  the  Texas  revolution. 
Cerbol  Barelas,  a  native  of  Los  Angeles,  a  man  whose  only 
education  consisted  in  superior  horsemanship,  throwing  the 
lasso,  and  the  use  of  the  lance,  redeemed  his  countrymen  from 
the  stigma  cast  upon  them  by  Santa  Ana.  When  the  wild 
warriors  of  the  California  plains  clamored  for  the  blood  of  the 
captive  gringos,  Don  Cerbol — yes,  Don  Cerbol !  a  Don  in  the 
fullest  meaning  of  the  word — interposed  for  their  protection, 
saying  that  while  he  lived,  and  could  wield  a  lance  in  their 
defence,  not  one  gringo  should  be  harmed  ;  "  that  they  had 
surrendered  to  him,  that  his  honor  and  good  faith  were 
plighted,  and  on  the  honor  of  a  man  he  would  defend  them  ;" 
and  during  the  four  months  of  captivity  endured  by  these 
gringos,  the  noble  Cerbol  watched  over  them  as  though  they 
had  been  his  own  children.  Sometimes,  with  a  few  trusty  fol- 
lowers, with  his  sacred  charge,  he  would  conceal  himself  in  the 
mountains,  to  escape  the  wrath  of  his  less  chivalrous  country- 
men. Alas  !  poor  Cerbol !  your  honest  heart  has  long  since 


380  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

become  food  for  worms.  The  gringos  have  forgotten  thee 
and  thy  noble  generosity,  save  the  few  survivors  of  thy  generous 
protection,  who  will  soon  meet  thee  at  the  judgment  seat  of 
Him  who  faileth  not  in  His  rewards. 

If  my  memory  is  right,  Don  David,  after  his  capture  at 
Chino,  was  paroled  and  became  the  guest  and  protege  of  the 
Mission  priest  at  San  Fernando,  and  at  about  the  beginning  of 
the  year  '47  rumors  floated  along  and  reached  San  Fernando  of 
the  coming,  like  a  northern  blast,  of  the  gringos  of  the  upper 
country  under  the  immortal  "Pathfinder." 

The  rumors  were  that  the  coming  torrent  of  vandal  invasion 
swept  everything  before  it,  showing  no  respect  for  age,  sex,  con- 
dition, or  the  rights  of  private  property.  The  god-father  who 
had  so  hospitably  sheltered  and  protected  Don  David  inquired 
of  him  if  it  would  not  be  better  to  betake  himself  to  the 
mountains  for  safety  until  the  tornado  had  swept  by.  Don 
David  assured  him  on  the  honor  of  an  American  that  these 
rumors  of  outrage  and  pillage  were  false.  "  You  judge  these 
men  who  fill  the  ranks  of  General  Fremont  from  your  own 
standpoint,"  said  the  priest.  "You  forget  the  class  of  men 
they  are — hunters,  trappers,  outlaws,  half-breed  Indians,  French 
voyageurs  and  all  of  the  mountain  adventurers  that  could  be 
collected  from  the  Columbia  river  to  Monterey."  Don  David 
answered  that  notwithstanding  that  many  of  the  men  forming 
Fremont's  command  were,  or  might  be,  bad  characters,  that 
Colonel  Fremont  was  an  officer  of  high  rank  in  the  army  of 
the  United  States,  and  that  for  him  to  permit  such  acts  of 
pillage  as  was  charged  against  his  command  would  be  more 
than  his  commission  was  worth.  Upon  this  assurance  the  good 
father  concluded  to  stand  by  his  altar  and  trust  to  his  saints 
and  the  chivalry  of  the  Pathfinder.  At  about  four  o'clock  one 
afternoon  the  "storm"  struck  San  Fernando  and  made  things 
fly,  but  soon  it  subsided  and  things  went  well  enough  for 
the  night.  In  the  morning  the  battalion  mounted  and  rode 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  331 

rapidly  over  the  twelve  mile  stretch  of  plain  to  the  Cahuenga 
pass,  where  an  intrenched  army  with  frowning  artillery  con- 
fronted it.  And  right  there  at  that  old  adobe  house,  a 
part  of  the  walls  of  which  are  yet  standing,  at  the  opening 
of  this  famous  pass  that  was  not,  jet  might  have  been,  a 
modern  Thermopjlce,  was  achieved  the  greatest  military  tri- 
umph known  to  history,  eclipsing  in  brilliancy  the  battle  of 
Providencia  itself.  As  Fremont  approached  Cahuenga  he  was 
met  by  a  truce  party,  and  a  parley  ensued,  and  the  treat} 
of  Cahuenga  was  the  result.  Colonel  Fremont  was  the  high 
contracting  party  on  the  part  of  the  United  States,  and  Gen- 
eral Andres  Pico  represented  the  Republic  of  Mexico.  General 
Pico  proposed  to  disband  his  army  at  Cahuenga.  the  officers 
retaining  their  private  arms.  All  of.  the  arms,  artillery,  and 
munitions  of  war  belonging  to  the  Mexican  Government  at 
Cahuenga  should  be  delivered  to  Colonel  Fremont,  and  he  was 
to  be  permitted  to  march  without  opposition  to  Los  Angeles. 
That  after  the  treaty  was  signed,  General  Pico  was  to  have  two 
hours  in  which  to  stack  his  arms  and  retire  his  forces  from  the 
fortifications.  Then  Fremont  was  to  march  in  and  possess  the 
spoil.  On  the  other  hand,  Colonel  Fremont  agreed  that  the 
army  under  General  Pico  should  be  permitted  to  retire  peace- 
ably to  their  homes,  and  should  there  remain  unmolested,  and 
that  certain  officers  who.  under  Cerbol  Barelas  had  in  Septem- 
ber previous  violated  their  paroles  theretofore  given  should  be 
pardoned;  and  to  this  the  gringo  commander  pledged  the  faith 
of  the  gringo  government. 

The  treaty  was  signed  in  duplicate,  each  high  contracting 
party  retaining  one  copy.  When  this  was  done,  General  Pico, 
with  not  over  forty  followers  retired  from  the  fortifications  at 
Cahuenga,  and  the  gringo  conqueror  marched  in  to  reap  the 
reward  of  his  victory. 

Two  batteries  of  artillery,  consisting  of  a  dozen  California 
live  oak  logs,  mounted  on  so  many  native  carretas,  became  the 


332  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

spoils  of  the  victors.  One  old  blunderbuss  that,  from  the  date 
graven  on  its  brazen  barrel,  suggested  former  service  in  the 
seige  of  Granada,  two  old  flint-lock  Spanish  horse-pistols,  and 
about  forty  Mexican  ox-goads  with  flaming  red  pennons 
thereto  attached,  made  a  full  inventory  of  the  spoils  which,  by 
virtue  of  the  great  treaty  of  Cahuenga,  passed  forever  from  the' 
hands  of  humbled  Mexico  and  went  to  enrich  the  arsenals  of 
the  gringo  nation.  Smothering  his  pent-up  wrath,  the  hero  of 
Cahuenga  put  spurs  to  his  Cayuse  charger,  and  with  the  fires 
of  revenge  burning  in  his  bosom,  followed  in  hot  haste  by  his 
buckskin  batallion,  hurried  on  to  Los  Angeles,  where  booty  and 
beauty  awaited  their  coming  in  plentiful  profusion.  With 
their  wild  war  song  of : 

"  Hail  to  the  Chief  who  stole  the  injun's  blanket," 

the  northern  barbarians,  with  the  Pathfinder  at  their  head, 
entered  the  Angel  city  to  suffer  another  disappointment, 
more  direful  than  that  of  Cahuenga.  They  found  that  the 
"army  of  the  west,"  under  Brigadier  General  W.  S.  Kearney, 
consisting  of  U.  S.  dragoons  and  the  Mormon  battalion  under 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Philip  St.  George  Cook,  of  the  Regular 
Army,  and  some  marines  and  volunteers,  had  been  quietly 
settled  down  in  the  Angel  capital  for  near  a  fortnight  and  were 
preserving  the  most  perfect  order,  and  the  angels  of  peace  were 
as  secure  in  person  and  property  as  though  they  were  domicil- 
iated  in  orderly  Boston.  The  Pathfinder,  however,  not  at  all 
abashed  and  determined  to  carry  out  the  role  of  conquerer, 
obtained  the  elegant  and  commodious  house  of  the  patriotic 
Captain  Alex.  Bell,  the  same  building  that  now  stands  at 
the  corner  of  Los  Angeles  and  Aliso  streets,  then  the 
best  house  in  California,  quartered  his  men  on  the  ground 
floor  and  up  stairs  hung  up  his  hat,  issued  a  proclamation 
and  declared  himself  Governor  of  California  by  virtue  of 
the  conquest  of  the  country  at  Cahuenga,  gathered  around 
him  some  dilapidated  Dons  and  questionable  Donas,  gave  an 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    EANGER.  333 

inaugural  ball,  and  enacted  in  miniature  the  same  part  that 
he  played  so  grandly  at  St.  Louis  fifteen  years  thereafter. 
General  Kearney  the  dignified,  Phillip  St.  George  Cook, 
the  beau  ideal  of  the  cavalry  man,  and  Major  Emery,  of 
the  Engineer  Corps,  at  first  treated  this  attempt  to  play  the 
Governor -as  &  second  edition  of  Sancho  Panza  in  his  govern- 
ment of  Barataria,  were  soon  brought  to  regard  the  matter  in 
a  more  serious  light,  and  General  Kearney  felt  constrained  to 
place  the  Governor  under  arrest  and  take  him  overland  to 
Washington.  General  Kearney  made  an  order  tha,t  on  the 
inarch  the  Pathfinder  would  be  permitted  to  encamp  within  a 
certain  distance  of  the  General,  and  the  same  was  maintained 
on  the  long  journey. 

When  the  Governor  was  well  seated  in  his  authority,  as  he 
thought,  he  sought  out  a  Mexican  tailor,  who  in  a  brief  space 
of  time  assisted  the  Governor  to  don  a  pair  of  open-legged  pan- 
taloons (calzoneros),  of  parti-colored  cloth,  red.  green,  and  gold, 
interspersed  with  scallops  of  purple  velvet,  with  silver  bell  but- 
tons extending  from  hip  to  bottom.  Under  the  calzoneros  he 
wore  Mexican  drawers  of  delicate  white  muslin,  with  each  leg  a 
yard  wide  ;  shoes  of  black  buckskin,  with  very  short  round  toes 
and  high  heels.  Over  his  calzonzillos,  or  drawers,  and  reaching 
to  the  knee,  he  wore  the  Mexican  bota,  made  of  leather,  em- 
broidered in  gold,  silk,  and  silver,  into  which  the  Governor 
thrust  his  silver-hilted  knife.  Around  his  gubernatorial  waist 
he  wore  a  gaudy  Mexican  sash,  at  least  five  yards  long.  A 
very  short  embroidered  jacket  was  donned  by  his  Excellency. 
A  red  vicuna  hat,  with  gold  cords  and  tassels,  surmounted  the 
head  of  California's  gringo  Governor,  and,  as  he  thought,  com- 
pleted his  expensive  costume,  and  cost  somebody  several 
hundred  dollars.  The  Governor,  however,  was  mistaken,  as 
the  sequel  will  show  ;  his  costume  was  not  yet  complete.  One 
of  the  Lugos,  on  beholding  this  wonderful  get-up,  determined 
to  outdo  it,  and  in  a  few  days  appeared  upon  the  streets  with 


334  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

a  suit  of  clothes  which,  with  his  saddle  and  horse  trappings, 
cost  over  $2000.  Besides  his  gorgeous  sash,  he  wore,  tied  low 
down  on  his  loins,  a  great  red  bandana  handkerchief,  with  the 
points  hanging  down  behind  like  a  swallow-tail  coat.  The 
Governor  saw  and  gazed  upon  this  strutting  jackdaw  as  it 
flitted  by,  and  until  it  faded  from  view  in  the  dim  distance  ; 
then,  pondering  abstractedly  for  a  few  minutes,  hied  himself 
to  a  Mexican  dry  goods  store,  purchased  two  bandanas  in  one, 
attached  them  to  his  rear  in  lieu  of  coat-tails  by  tying  the  cor- 
ners in  front,  surveyed  himself  for  a  time,  and  walked  into  the 
street  with  every  evidence  of  feeling  that  he  was  a  conqueror, 
every  inch  of  him.  The  gringos  were  justly  proud  of  their 
Governor's  Mexican  costume. 

The  author  does  not  wish  to  detract  from  the  meritorious 
services  of  Colonel  Fremont  in  the  conquest  of  California.  But 
his  services  have  been  so  overrated,  that  persons  not  familiar 
with  the  truths  of  history,  believe  that  no  one  other  than 
Fremont  had  aught  to  do  in  the  reduction  of  this  golden  land  to 
the  dominion  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  For  instance,  the 
world  believes,  and  history  holds  out,  that  the  ancient  fortifica- 
tions which  overlook  our  Angel  City,  were  constructed  by 
Fremont,  while  the  truth  is  they  were  constructed  by  General 
George  Stoneman,  and  the  late  General  Davidson,  alternately 
relieving  each  other.  Also,  that  the  ancient  flag-staff  at 
Sonoma  was  raised  by  Fremont,  while  the  truth  again  is  that 
in  1851,  General  Stoneman,  with  strong  and  patriotic  blows, 
wielded  the  axe  that  felled  the  tree  that  has  for  thirty  years 
withstood  storm  and  decay,  and  that  he  did  most  of  the 
manual  labor  in  raising  that  venerable  pole.  History  also  gives 
to  Fremont  all  the  honor  attending  the  surrender  at  Cahuenga, 
and  the  writer  alleges  his  belief  to  be  that  the  Pathfinder  is 
rightfully  entitled  to  all  the  honor  there  was  in  it. 

The  true  significance  of  the  Treaty  of  Cahuenga  was  this  . 
Early  in    1846,   Commodore  Stockton  occupied  Los  Angeles, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  335 

established  himself,  and  paroled  certain  Mexican  officers,  not 
to  bear  arms  during  the  war  unless  exchanged.  Now  certain 
among  these  officers,  in  violation  of  their  paroles,  took  up  arms 
under  Cerbol  Barelas,  in  September,  and  drove  the  garrison 
under  Gillespie  out  of  Los  Angeles,  captured  Wilson's  com- 
mand at  Chino,  and  reconquered  this  country  to  Mexico. 

General  Kearney  having  crossed  the  plains  (after  the  sharp 
cavalry  encounter  with  General  Andres  Pico  at  San  Pasqual 
near  the  Mission  San  Luis  Rey),  formed  a  junction  with 
Commodore  Stockton  at  San  Diego,  marched  on  Los  Angeles, 
and  after  the  battles  of  San  Gabriel  and  La  Mesa,  entered  and 
occupied  Los  Angeles  on  the  8th  of  January,  1847. 

Those  officers  who  had  violated  their  paroles  were  now  in  a 
bad  fix — they  either  had  to  flee  the  country  or  run  the  chance 
of  being  arrested  and  shot. 

General  Andres  Pico  who  was  yet  in  the  saddle,  hearing  of 
Fremont's  coming,  met  him  at  Cahuenga,  and  throwing  dust 
in  his  eyes  as  to  the  re-occupation  of  Los  Angeles,  induced  him 
to  make  a  treaty  and  bind  the  United  States  to  the  pardon  of 
those  officers. 

It  was  a  masterly  stroke  on  the  part  of  Don  Andres  and 
reflected  great  credit  on  him  as  a  diplomat,  he  having  thereto- 
fore demonstrated  his  prowess  on  the  field.  Don  Andres  was  a 
great  humorist,  and  took  huge  delight  in  laughing  over  his 
Quaker  demonstrations  at  Cahuenga. 

General  Kearney,  in  his  dispatch  to  the  government,  said 
that  he  thought  the  pacification  of  the  country  demanded  his 
approval  of  Fremont's  Cahuenga  treaty,  and  on  that  ground 
he  did  approve  it. 


336  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  Ranger  Antiquarian — A  Pompeii  at  Our  Back  Door — Tehachepi — The 
Robin  Hood  of  the  Windy  Pass — The  Last  Relic  of  a  By-gone  Race — 
The  Valley  of  Perpetual  Bloom — The  Ventarron—  The  Phantom  City. 

• 

RANGER  is  not  an  antiquarian,  and  when  one  writes 
a  book  of  reminiscences  he  is  expected  to  confine  him- 
self to  the  subject  of  broils,  raids,  and  frontier  life 
generally.  13ut,  notwithstanding,  the  author  is  going  to  hazard 
the  assertion  that  the  traces  of  ancient  civilization  found  scat- 
tered over  the  vast  plateau  extending  from  the  Rio  Grande  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  as  also  the  ruins  found  further  south,  in 
Mexico  and  Central  America,  many  of  which  he  has  examined, 
are  not  of  such  remote  antiquity  as  the  scientific  searchers  for 
ancient  ruins  would  lead  the  world  to  believe.  That  either  the 
Casa  Grande  and  kindred  remains  found  on  the  Gila  and  in 
other  parts  of  Arizona,  or  Palenque,  Quiche,  Copan  or  Quirigua 
found  in  Central  America,  are  of  an  antiquity  greater  than  the 
advent  of  the  Spanish  conquerors,  the  writer  is  constrained  to 
question.  That  all  of  those  places,  and  many  others,  the 
remains  of  which  are  to  be  found  in  all  parts  of  Central 
America,  were  of  very  ancient  origin,  there  is  no  kind  uf  ques- 
tion ;  but  that  they  were  deserted  by  their  inhabitants,  or  that 
they  had  ceased  to  be  the  abiding  places  of  a  highly  civilized 
and  intelligent  race  of  people  when  Columbus  discovered 
America,  is  not  supported  by  the  test  of  practical  experience. 
Antiquarians,  in  their  eager  search  for  the  remote,  overlook  all 
evidence  of  the  modern.  It  is  well  known  to  practical  persons 
that  timber  rots  and  decays  with  remarkable  rapidity  in  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  337 

humid  climate  of  Central  America,  yet  timber  is  found  in  the 
ruins  of  Palenque,  as  also  in  other  ruins  in  Central  America, 
and  in  as  good  a  state  of  preservation  as  some  found  in  old 
bridges  of  masonry  intermingled  with  timber,  built  by  the 
Spaniards  after  the  conquest  of  the  country.  The  theory  that 
those  cities  were  in  ruins,  and  were  enveloped  in  the  mists  of 
antiquity  before  the  coming  of  the  Spaniard,  is  not  supported, 
when  subjected  to  the  tests  of  common  practical  experience. 

We  may  apply  a  plain,  practical  test  as  to  the  remote  anti- 
quity of  ruins  and  remains  found  in  Arizona.  It  is  well  known 
that  violent  storms  with  drifting  sands  prevail  in  that  country, 
yet,  the  traces  of  irrigating  canals  are  to  be  found  wherever 
large  or  considerable  streams  of  water  are  contigious  to  exten- 
sive bodies  of  arable  lands.  How  long  would  the  trace  of  a 
ditch  remain  in  such  a  country,  or  even  here  in  California  where 
violent  winds  are  scarcely  known  ?  Would  they  endure  the 
corrosions  of  time  and  storms  for  one  hundred  years,  two  hun- 
dred years,  or  at  the  furthest  three  hundred  years?  With  the 
writer's  observations  in  that  direction,  he  most  emphatically 
maintains  that  they  would  not.  That  these  old  canals  were 
the  property  of  those  who  inhabited  these  ruined  places,  all  are 
agreed.  Then  why  not  at  once  discard  the  preposterous  theory 
that  the  ruins  of  Arizona  verge  even  on  the  borders  of  remote 
antiquity,  and  accept  the  one  that  by  Spanish  spoliation  and 
conquest  the  former  people  of  Arizona  have  been  driven  from 
their  civilized  abodes  and  become  the  prey  of  the  fierce  Apache, 
or,  that  pestilence,  famine,  or  some  other  reasonable  cause  has, 
left  their  lands  waste.and  their  habitations  and  temples  in  ruins. 
Antiquarians  not  only  look  too  far,  but  they  generally  go  too 
far  for  common  sense  practical  research.  For  instance,  if  one  of 
our  angels  should  be  inclined  to  investigate  the  vestiges  of 
antiquity,  he  would  hie  himself  to  the  Pyramids,  and  take  a 
look  at  the  mysterious  characters  engraven  on  those  time- 
honored  remains,  and  return  to  us  looking  as  wise  as  an  owl, 
22 


338  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

and  would  really  know  as  much  of  the  Pyramids  as  did  the 
donkey  or  the  dragoman  who  carried  him  thither.  On  his 
return  he  might  take  in  Pompeii  and  Herculaneura,  and  hy  the 
time  he  reached  his  modern- angel  home  he  would  at  least  feel 
entitled  to  a  degree  with  A.  M.  attached  to  his  former  title,  if 
any  be  had,  and  if  he  undertook  to  lecture  to  us  wondering 
angels  on  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum,  he' could  tell  us  just  ahout 
as  much  of  the  wonders  of  those  long  buried  cities  as  could  the 
dead  dog  of  the  2,000  years  dead  Diornede.  But  if  our  angel 
antiquarian  should  shoulder  his  shovel  and  walk  out  of  our 
back  door  into  the  Mojave  desert  and  go  to  work  excavating, 
he  could  unearth  a  modern  Herculaneum  that  has  lain  buried 
not  more  than  three  hundred  years,  and  about  the  great  buried 
city  of  the  Mojave,  the  center  of  a  civilization  not  remote,  but 
still  a  populous  city,  situated  in  the  "valley  of  perpetual 
bloom,"  buried  and  hidden  from  the  face  of  man  only  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years  before  the  Jesuitical  explorers  first 
set  their  sandled  feet  in  this  valley  of  the  angels ;  to  write 
what  he  knows,  or  has  learned  of  that  buried  'mystery,  will  now 
be  the  task  of  this  antique  Ranger. 

A  tradition  has  existed,  and  really  exists  now,  that  the 
Mojave  desert  was  once  a  fruitful,  beautiful  and  well  watered 
valley,  that  the  mountains,  those  we  call  the  Sierra  Madre, 
but  which  in  point  of  fact  are  the  Sierra  Nevada,  were  covered 
with  soil  and  verdure,  that  there  came  a  terrible  wind  that 
denuded  the  mountains  of  their  soil,  blew  the  rocks  bare  and 
filled  up  the  beautiful  Mojave  beyond,  leaving  it  the  howling 
waste  as  seen  to-day,  the  home  of  the  coyote,  the  hideous, 
burning  plain  of  drifting  sands,  whereon  so  many  ill-fated 
miners  have  wandered  and  perished  of  heat  and  thirst.  Don 
Francisco  Garcia,  the  oldest  man  in  the  City  of  Angels,  who 
came  here  more  than  eighty  years  ago  a  Spanish  soldier,  and  yet 
marches  on  foot  in  our  patriotic  processions,  says  he  conversed 
with  many  Indians,  who  remembered  hearing  their  ancestors 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  339 

speak  of  the  ventarron  and  substantiated  by  oral  evidence,  on 
their  own  knowledge,  what  has  passed  into  vague  tradition. 

The  reader  has  of  course  heard  of  Tehachepi,  -'The  Windy 
Pass."  The  immortal  Daniel  Boone,  vagabondizing  on  the  then 
verge  of  American  civilization,  won  a  name  immortal  by  becom- 
ing the  first  white  man  of  Kentucky.  To  be  the  first  white 
man  of  Kentucky  at  the  present  time  would  be  -a  consummation 
devoutly  to  be  wished,  because  Kentucky  is  the  land  of  giants, 
and  to  be  first  among  giants  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  very  big 
thing,  but  to  have  been  the  first  man  when  old  Daniel  Boone 
was  there  was  no  great  shakes,  because  Boone  was  by  himself 
and  alone,  and  skulking  from  the  Indians,  and  didn't  so  much 
as  have  a  '"'nigger  to  boss,"  and  came  within  just  one  man  of 
being  nobody.  So  this  writer  could  never  see  why  that  old 
squatter  should  have  been  so  lauded  for  being  the  first  white 
man  of  Kentucky,  when  at  the  time  there  was  no  second  white 
man.  In  1854  this  adventurous  Hanger  became  the  first  white 
man  of  Tehachepi,  and  like  the  immortal  Boone,  was  the  only 
one.  It  is  a  great  thing,  however,  to  be  the  first  white  man  of 
any  country,  and  this  Eanger  maintained  all  of  that  regal  dig- 
nity until  the  advent  into  that  now  classic  spot,  of  Jack  King, 
when  the  author  yielded  his  claim  in  favor  of  Jack,  and  then 
he  became  the  first  white  man  of  Tehachepi.  When  the  writer 
was  the  first  white  man  of  Tehachepi  there  was  none  other 
nearer  than  San  Fernando,  more  than  a  hundred  miles,  so  he 
experienced  little  difficulty  in  maintaining  his  position,  espe- 
cially as  contrary  to  the  case  of  Boone  the  three  Indian  families 
who"  inhabited  the  valley  were  extremely  friendly.  After  giving 
a  brief  description  of  that  classic  locality  the  antiquarian. 
Ranger  will  inform  the  world  of  what  he  learned  concerning 
the  buried  city  of  Mojave  while  occupying  the  honorable  posi- 
tion of  being  the  first  white  man,  and  as  a  preface  to  wh?.t  he 
intends  to  relate  he  will  state  as  a  fact,  based  on  information 
and  general  acceptation  that,  since  the  coming  of  the  gringo 


340  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  buried  city  of  the  Mojave  could  be  traced  on  the  desert  by 
its  outcropping  walls,  and  if  sought  for  could  without  doubt  be 
yet  definitely  located.  Is  this  not  a  field  promising  a  harvest 
of  results  to  any  of  our  antiquarian  angels  ?  Have  we  not  a 
Pompeii  or  Herculaneum  at  our  very  back  door  ? 

Tehachepi,  at  the  time  this  truthful  historian  enjoyed  the 
proud  distinction  of  being  the  "first  man,"  was  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  romantic  place  that  is  possible  to  conceive  of  a  region 
so  elevated  and  so  windy.  The  valley  proper,  or  pass,  is  a  wide 
open  plain,  and  the  grass,  only  trodden  and  cropped  by  the 
innumerable  herds  of  antelope  and  deer  that  inhabited  the 
region,  was  most  abundant,  beautiful  and  contiguous  and 
smaller  valleys,  romantic  canons,  forests  of  pine,  groves  of  ever- 
green and  spreading  oaks,  purling  brooks,  gushing  springs, 
green  meadows,  verdant  slopes  and  craggy  hights,  went  to 
make  a  picture  of  arcadian  beauty  that  would  have  raised  the 
enthusiasm  of  a  landscape  painter  to  the  seventh  heaven  of 
bliss.  Tehachepi  has  since  been,  and  is  yet,  the  paradise  of  the 
'Stock  raiser,  and  is  settled  by  a  hardy  set  of  frontiersmen,  who 
promise  fair  in  the  future  to  raise  up  a  race  of  mountaineers, 
ileet  of  foot  and  strong  of  limb,  to  stand  as  a  bulwark  of  liberty 
when  the  effeminate  angels  inhabiting  this  modern  elysiimi 
have  faltered  in  its  defence,  and  have  retired  from  the  conflict 
to  their  orange  groves,  to  lead  a  life  of  indolent  ease.  Teha- 
chepi at  the  present  time  produces  cattle  ;  in  the  future  it  will 
produce  men.  The  rugged  surrounding  mountains,  the  purity 
of  the  water,  the  extreme  healthfulness  of  the  climate,  the 
purifying  winds,  sweeping  through  caiion  and  valley,  from  the 
Tulare  valley  on  the  west  to  the  arid  Mojave  desert  on  the 
east,  its  elevation,  3000  feet  above  the  sea  level,  its  magnificent 
springs  of  mineral  water,  the  climate  never  hot  and  never  cold, 
but  always  windy,  gives  promise  that  Tehachepi  will,  in  the 
future,  grow  a  race  of  physical  giants. 

The  great   Southern  Pacific  Railroad,  in  surmounting  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  o41 

Tehachepi,  performed  one  of  the  most  curious  engineering 
somersaults  known  to  the  science  of  railroad  building,  and  by 
its  great  combination  of  tunnels  and  loops  has  given  a  fame  to 
Tehachepi  never  before  enjoyed.  During  the  dark  days  of  the 
civil  war  the  locality  gained  an  evil  repute  on  account  of  one 
patriotic  citizen  named  Mason,  who  collected  a  gang  of  cut- 
throats, unfurled  to  the  balmy  breeze  the  three-barred  banner 
of  the  lost  cause,  declared  fur  the  Southern  Confederacy,  and 
robbed  and  murdered  all  who  failed  to  pay  him  tribute.  The 
gang  became  the  terror  of  the  country,  ruined  the  reputation  of 
the  windy  pass,  and  where  the  mad  career  of  the  gay  guerrillas 
would  have  ended  had  not  a  woman  stepped  in  and  caused  the 
death  of  the  chief,  is  left  to  conjecture.  That  is  to  say,  the 
chief  becoming  enamored  of  the  charms  of  the  wife  of  one  of 
his  band,  was  smiled  on  by  the  fair  and  fickle  one,  which  caused 
the  reverse  of  a  smile  in  the  outraged  husband,  who  ended  the 
amorous  dalliance  of  the  two  guilty  lovers  by  putting  an  end 
to  the  redoubtable  Robin  Hood  of  the  windy  pass.  On  the 
death  of  the  leader  the  band  disbanded,  and  has  passed  into 
the  history  of  Tehachepi. 

The  sturdy  old  oaks  that  stand  exposed  to  the  driving  winds 
of  the  windy  pass  have  about  the  same  rake  as  the  masts  of  an 
old-fashioned  Yankee  slave-brig  ;  that  is  to  say,  they  all  stand 
on  an  angle  with  the  horizontal.  To  be  still  more  plainly 
understood,  I  mean  to  say  that  all  the  trees  at  Tehachepi 
have  a  strong  leaning  toward  the  east ;  and  still  more  wonder- 
ful, the  west  side  of  the  trees  are  devoid  of  bark,  and  are  as 
polished  as  were  the  masts  of  the  slave-brig  aforesaid,  all  of 
which  is  caused  by  the  continuous  and  cutting  character  of  the 
winds  howling  through  the  windy  pass.  Once  speaking  of  the 
latter  peculiarity  to  an  enthusiastic  citizen  of  the  windy  locality, 
he  said  that  was  a  mistake  ;  "the  wind  had  not  blown  the  bark 
off  the  trees."  "  What'else  could  have  caused  such  curious  phe- 
nomenon?" queried  the  writer.  "Why,"  said  he,  "you  know 


342  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

when  the  valley  was  fi^st  settled  we  all  got  into  a  squabble  about 
our  claims  and  got  to  bushwhacking  each  other  in  regular  old- 
fashioned,  backwoods,  Indian  style,  and  all  of  the  trees  were 
filled  full  of  bullets.  This  we  continued  for  about  two  years, 
when  we  settled  our  difficulties  and  quit  shooting  at  each  other, 
and  then  one  fellow  here,  who  had  been  an  old  lead  miner,  con- 
cluded that  he  could  make  wages  at  mining  the  bullets  and 
buckshot  out  of  the  trees,  the  bullets  and  buckshot,  you  know, 
that  had  lodged  in  the  trees  during  our  two  years  scrimmage, 
so  in  the  first  place  he  had  to  peel  off  the  bark  to  enable  him 
to  find  the  bullets,  and  that  is  the  reason  the  west  side  of  the 
trees  are  so  bare  of  bark."  "The  devil  and  Tom  Walker," 
said  1,  "that  story  won't  go  down.  How  was  it  that  the 
bullets  and  buckshot  only  lodged  in  the  west  side  and  none 
other?"  "Oh!"  said  he,  "I  forgot  to  explain  that;  you  see, 
just  as  soon  as  the  gun  was  fired,  no  difference  which  way  she 
was  pointed,  the  wind  would  just  catch  up  the  bullet  or  buck- 
shot and  away  they  .would  go  whizzing  with  the  wind,  and  if 
they  struck  a  tree  it  had  to  be  on  the  west  side,  because  you 
know,  the  wind  at  Tehachepi  always  blows  from  the  west." 
"Well,"  queried  the  inquisitive  author,  "you  must  have  made 
bloody  work  among  each  other  in  your  two  years'  conflict  ? " 
"Oh,  not  very,"  said  he,  "sometimes  we  would  catch  a  fellow 
in  a  sheltered  nook  in  the  mountain  and  then  we  would  settle 
his  hash,  but  where  the  wind  was  blowing  you  could  no  more 
hit  a  man  with  a  bullet,  or  buckshot,  if  you  aimed  at  him,  than 
you  could  by  throwing  a  handful  of  red  beans." 

There  were  three  Indian  families  at  Tehachepi  when  this 
Ranger  was  enacting  the  role  of  Daniel  Boone  in  that  unknown 
place,  and  were  quite  comfortably  situated  in  a  cosy  little 
sheltered  nook  on  the  north  side  of  the  pass,  overlooking  the 
great  Mojave  desert.  Occupying  a  hut  all  to  himself,  was  a 
very  old  Indian,  who  received  the  most  kind  and  unremitting 
attention  from  the  three  families,  all  of  whom  seemed  to  vie  with 


KEMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  343 

each  other  in  their  kindness  to  the  old  man.  For  the  informa- 
tion of  the  reader,  I  will  here  state  that  these  Indians  were  of 
the  Tejon  tribe,  inhabiting  the  beautiful  region  in  and  around 
the  head  of  the  Tulare  valley,  fishing  in  Lakes  Kern  and  Buena 
Vista  in  summer  time,  and  hunting  in  the  Tejon  Mountains 
and  region  in  and  around  the  Tehachepi  Pass  in  Avinter.  The 
most  of  them  spoke  the  Spanish  language.  By  small  donations 
from  my  small  stock  of  provisions,  and  the  distribution  of 
powder,  ball  and  caps- with  which  I  was  well  supplied,  among 
the  three  hunters  of  the  little  rancheria  I  soon  gained  their 
confidence.  When  the  sun  was  warm  the  old  man,  who  was 
unable  to  walk,  used  to  be  brought  out  and  sat  down  on  a  pile 
of  deer  skins,  carefully  arranged  in  a  warm  sunny  exposure 
protected  from  the  wind,  where  he  would  sit  and  smoke  till 
eventide,  when  he  would  be  carefully  carried  in.  He  was  the 
oldest-looking  human  I  ever  beheld.  Old  Dona  Ulalia,  who 
recently  died  at  an  age  ranging  anywhere  from  a  hundred  and 
thirty  to  a  hundred  and  fifty,  was  a  modern  compared  with  this 
antique  relic  of  past  ages.  The  first  time  the  old  ma'n  was  out 
after  my  arrival  at  the  camp  and  I  gazed  upon  his  wrinkled  form, 
I  felt  as  if  standing  in  the  very  presence  of  a  living  mummy. 
He  looked  like  an  embalmed  Egyptian  who  had  lain  three 
thousand  years  in  the  catacombs.  I  inquired  of  the  hunters  if 
he  could  talk,  "  Oh,  yes  ;  very  well,  if  you  can  understand 
him."  "Oh,  then,"  said  I,  "he  don't  speak  Spanish?"  " Muy 
bien"  said  the  hunter,  "  but  his  voice  is  very  curious,  and 
unless  you  are  familiar  with  it,  the  same  as  the  wind."  "Has 
he  any  senses  left  ?"  inquired  the  Hanger.  "  Es  muy  sabio  'y 
muy  vivo"  (he  is  very  wise  and  lively,)  said  the  Indian  hunter, 
"  if  you  can  only  understand  him."  "  Is  he  your  grandfather, 
or  is  he  your  great  grand-father?"  I  inquired.  "He  is  not  of 
our  race,"  said  the  hunter.  "Who,  and  what  is  he,  then?"  I 
again  inquired,  beginning  to  feel  an  interest  in  this  sublime  and 
bent  monument  of  antiquity.  The  hunter,  who  was  an  intelli- 


344  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

gent  fellow,  went  on  in  his  pretty  good  Spanish  to  inform  me 
that  the  old  man,  who  claimed  never  to  have  been  married,  and 
to  have  no  living  kin  in  the  wide  earth,  was,  according  to  his 
statement  and  the  belief  of  the  Indians,  to  be  the  last  of  a  race 
of  civilized  Indians  who  once  inhabited  and  cultivated  the 
beautiful  Mojave,  until  that  valley  of  perpetual  bloom  was 
submerged  by  the  ventarron. 

I  then  bethought  me,  if  the  old  man  can  only  talk  and  I  can 
only  learn  to  understand  him,  what  a  world  of  information  can 
be  derived  as  to  the  prehistoric  people,  if  any,  that  had  in- 
habited the  desert  of  the  Mojave.  So  I  at  once  put  myself  in 
a  way  to  open  communication  with  the  ancient  relic  of  a  bygone 
race.  First  I  gave  him  a  white  clay  pipe,  well  filled'  with 
tobacco,  and  found  that  he  smoked  like  a  Turk,  and  that  he 
was  greatly  delighted  with  the  gift.  I  soon  gained  on  the  old 
man's  confidence,  but  it  was  a  difficult  matter  to  understand  his 
speech,  if  such  sound  as  the  rushing  of  the  wind  through  dry 
rushes  could  be  so  designated,  but  in  the  course  of  time  I  was 
enabled  to  glean  from  the  old  relic,  by  what  I  could  myself 
understand,  and  with  the  assistance  of  the  intelligent  Indian 
hunter,  the  following  concerning  the  ventarron  and  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  great  city  of  Mojave.  To  use  the  old  man's 
language  would  be  impossible,  and  the  author  will  use  his  own 
to  convey  to  the  reader  the  substance  of  what  he  was  more  than 
a  fortnight  in  learning,  all  of  which  was  to  the  following  effect : 
"  The  great  plain  spread  out  before  us  as  we  look  at  the  rising 
sun  was,  when  my  grandfather  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  and 
when  my  father  was  yet  an  infant,  a  valley  of  perpetual  bloom, 
inhabited  by  a  dense  population  of  highly  civilized  people,  who 
lived  by  agriculture  and  manufactures.  At  the  furthest  stretch 
of  the  eye  from  where  we  now  sit,  the  capital  city  of  Mojave 
stood  in  all  its  majestic  beauty,  with  its  walls  of  solid  stone 
and  its  massive  buildings,  its  towers  and  turrets.  My  grand- 
father and  father,  long,  long  since  gathered  to  the  spirit  land, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.  345 

and  one  or  two  families  who  belonged  to  the  watch  tower 
that  then  guarded  this  same  pass,  were  the  only  surviving 
inhabitants  of  the  lost  people,  and  all  of  them  have  years  and 
years  ago  died  and  left  me  alone.  I  am  all  that  is  left  of  that 
once  proud  and  powerful  nation  ;  what  I  learned  of  the  great 
ventarron  was  from  my  grandfather,  who  died  when  I  was  yet 
a  young  man.  The  ventarron  (whirlwind)  did  not  strike  this 
place.  Although  the  three  days'  wind  from  the  north  blew 
with  destructive  violence,  the  strong  watch  tower  that  guarded 
this  pass  against  the  barbarous  hordes  of  the  north  withstood 
its  fury,  and  the  twin  mounds  that  yet  stand  here  as  sentinels 
are  the  remains  of  the  great  northern  watch  towers  of  the 
Mojaves,  occupied  by  my  grandfather  and  his  friends  when  the 
ventarron  swept  over  the  valley  of  perpetual  bloom,  and  left  in 
its  place  the  withering  sight  thac  for  so,  long  a  time  has  blasted 
the  eyes  of  all  who  have  gazed  upon  its  glaring  surface.  As  I 
said  before,  all  beyond  us  to  the  setting  sun  was  then  "barbar- 
ism, and  my  grandfather  who  was  here  said  (and  I  remember 
myself  his  oft-repeated  description  of  the  dire  catastrophe)  to 
this  effect : 

For  three  days  the  wind  blew  with  terrific  violence  from 
the  west.  For  three  days  the  wind  blew  from  the  north  with  a 
fury  that  shook  the  foundation  of  these  mountains  that  now 
surround  us.  Then  for  three  more  days  it  blew  from  the  east, 
and  three  days  from  the  south.  The  whole  world  seemed  to  be 
falling  to  pieces,  and  the  mountains  rattled  in  their  sockets  like 
teeth  in  an  ancient  skull.  Then  the  four  winds  roared  together 
in  a  grand  conflict.  The  whirlwind  lifted  up  the  rocks  and 
ground  them  to  dust.  Great  cliffs  'were  torn  to  pieces  and  driven 
in  gyrating  circles  until  reduced  to  powder,  and  filled  the  air  with 
dust  until  the  sun  was  obscured,  and  darkness  fell  upon  the  face 
of  the  earth.  The  world  seemed  going  back  into  chaos.  Then 
the  thunders  of  Heaven  joined  in  the  appalling  commotion,  and 
the  universe  seemed  to  be  in  the  last  throes  of  dissolution,  and 


346  REMINISQENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

that  general  annihilation  was  at  hand.  As  a  last  final  effort  of 
enraged  nature,  the  flood-gates  of  heaven  were  opened  and  rain 
fell  like  the  pouring  out  of  an  ocean,  the  flying  dust  returned 
in  mud  and  settled  upon  the  earth.  The  darkness  passed  away 
and  revealed  a  sight  too  dismal  for  contemplation.  The  valley 
of  perpetual  bloom  lay  before  us  like  a  blackened  and  hideous 
corpse.  The  walls  and  towers  of  the  great  city  of  Mojave 
reared  their  desolation  above  the  ruin  in  silent  mourning  over 
the  buried  multitude,  and  the  ventarron  had  performed  its 
mission  of  fell  destruction. 

When  the  renowned  and  pious  father  of  all  the  missions  in 
California,  Padre  Junipero  Serra  was  at  San  Gabriel  he  was  so 
impressed  with  the  belief  that  a  great  city  existed  somewhere 
on  the  east  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  that  after  a  vast  amount  of 
persuasion  he  induced  some  of  his  Indian  converts  to  accompany 
him  in  search  of  it.  In  using  the  word  persuasion,  I  would 
here  remark  that  the  mission  Indians  always  had  a  superstitious 
awe  regarding  that  mysterious  region.  Tradition  has  it  that  the 
good  father  with  his  neophyte  guard  came  in  sight  of  a  large  and 
magnificent  city  on  the  Mojave  desert,  that  he  journeyed  toward 
it  but  got  no  nearer,  and  being  seized  with  the  superstitious 
fear  of  his  Indian  companions  hurriedly  retraced  his  steps 
to  San  Gabriel,  declaring  that  the  city  he  saw  was  a  machina- 
tion of  the  devil  to  lure  him  from  his  missionary  labors  among 
the  heathen.  Now  as  to  whether  the  good  father  was  deceived 
by  a  mirage,  or  that  he  did  actually  behold  a  real  city,  and  was 
deceived  by  false  appearances  as  to  distance,  we  are  not 
permitted  to  imagine,  but  it  is  a  well  known  fact  that  in 
the  great  purity  and  clearness  of  the  desert  atmosphere  the 
distance  of  twenty  miles  seems  less  than  one.  The  tradition 
excited  the  poetical  genius  of  Kercheval,  and  with  the  following 
from  him  we  drop  the  curtain  on  the  dark  mystery  that  broods 
over  the  lost  people  of  the  valley  of  perpetual  bloom. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  347 


THE   PHANTOM   CITY. 

Where  the  desert's  face  lies  glaring, 
Like  a  corpse  forever  staring, 
And  the  zephyr's  moan  despairing, 

Wand'ring  o'er  the  deathly  waste, 
Came  a  Padre  meek  and  lowly. 
Hasting  onward,  blindly,  slowly, 
Seeking  with  his  emblem  holy, 

Dying  souls  with  zealous  haste. 

Far  away  with  quivering  shimmer, 
Sank  the  mountains  dim  and  dimmer, 
Shone  the  sunset's  dying  glimmer,. 

With  a  faint,  expiring  glance; 
Came  no  earthquake's  voice  to  mutter, 
Not  a  trembling  zephyr's  flutter, 
Slept  a  silence  deep  and  utter, 

O'er  the  lonely,  dread  expanse. 

On,  o'er  ghastly  wastes  and  dreary, 
Thro'  the  night's  long  watches  weary. 
Journeyed  stout  old  Padre  Serra 

Till  the  ghostly  shadows  fled, 
And  the  moon  came  silent  wending, — 
Still  before  him  vague  extending, 
Stretched  the  level  waste  unending, 

Lifeless,  soundless,  boundless  spread. 

'Neath  the  dim  horizon's  circle, 
Where  the  shadows  crouch  and  darkle, 
What  is  that  the  sun's  bright  sparkle 

Gilds  as  with  a  flash  of  tire? 
Lo!  a  city  vast  and  hoary, 
Dazzling  as  some  fairy  stor}', 
Clothed  as  with  celestial  glory, 

Dome  and  battlement  and  spire. 

Like  the  swelling  tides  of  ocean, 
Thrilled  the  Padre  with  emotion, 
In  his  soul  a  grand  commotion, 

Thankfulness  and  glad  surprise 
Stirred  his  holy  spirit  greatly, 
Waving  palm  trees  tall  and  stately, 
Towering  in  their  pride  sedately, 

Rose  beneath  the  desert  skies. 


348  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

Was  it  but  a  mocking  seeming? 
Was  the  holy  Padre  dreaming? 
Rose  a  city  tall  and  gleaming, 

Queenly  'mid  the  desert  lands; 
Temples  proud  and  princely  places, 
Terraced  heights  and  fount-kissed  spaces, 
Like  some  hidden,  blest  oasis 

'Mid  Sahara's  burning  sands. 

Then  of  dangers  nought  regretting, 
Heedless  of  the  toil  and  sweating, 
All  the  thirst  and  heat  forgetting, 

Spake  the  Padre  stout  and  brave : 
"  Though  the  way  hath  worn  and  spent  mer 
Surely  Heaven  its  aid  hath  lent  me, 
Surely  Christ  himself  hath  sent  me 
Forth  these  heathen  hosts  to  save!" 

Gleamed  the  city  clear  and  clearer,. 
Seemed  it  near,  yet  never  nearer, 
Almost  might  the  list'ning  hearer 

Seeming  catch  its  busy  din; 
But  there  smote  no  clang  of  sabrer 
Rose  no  song  of  flute  er  tabor, 
And  no  pulsing  tides  of  labor 

Drifted  out  or  entered  in. 

Yet  in  vain  his  weary  toiling, 
'Neath  that  glowing  furnace  broiling. 
Ever  some  curs'd  spell  seemed  foiling 

All  his  efforts  in  the  chase; 
Shrank  the  phantom  ever  fleeting, 
Ever  from  his  grasp  retreating, 
Where  the  dim  horizon  meeting 

Kissed  the  desert's  deathly  face. 

Still  the  holy  father  wandered 
Ever  on  and  ever  pondered  — 
"Here  the  heathen  hosts  have  squandered 

All  the  world's  bright  golden  store; 
In  this  vast  and  lonely  centre, 
With  the  cross,  their  faithful  mentor, 
I  will  be  the  first  to  enter 

At  their  desert-guarded  door." 

"  If  my  weak  endurance  fail  not, 
Satan's  wiles  shall  him  avail  not; 
Here  the  holy  cross  shall  trail  not 
Longer  in  the  sighing  dust 


BEMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  349 

Here  with  zealous,  braye  endeavor, 
Error's  bead  His  sword  sball  sever, 
And  His  Kingdom  reign  forever, 
Conquering  over  sin  and  lust." 

Still  more  gorgeous  glowed  the  splendor 
Trom  each  column,  tall  and  slender, 
Slept  a  glory  soft  and  tender, 

With  its  far  o'erarching  light 
From  each  temple  skyward  springing 
Countless  rays  of  glory  flinging, 
Dazzling,  flashing,  trembling,  clinging 

Round  each  spire's  far-piercing  height. 

Fiercer  gleamed  that  furnace  glowing 
Like  the  lava-tide  o'erflowiug, 
Ever  hot  and  hotter  growing, 

Withering  as  some  demon's  spites; 
Deadly  as  the  path  of  error, 
Though  no  mute  lips  made  demurrer, 
Fell  a  vague,  despairing  terror 

On  his  trembling  Neophytes. 

Long  with  fruitless,  vain  endeavor. 
Followed  be  the  phantom  ever, 
On  and  onward,  nearing  never. 

Till  at  eve,  ere  fell  the  night', 
Like  some  fairy's  bright  creation, 
Like  some  dazzling  exhalation, 
Dome  and  turret  and  foundation 

Melted  from  bis  longing  sight. 

Then  said  Padre  Serra  grieving, 
"This  is  some  curs'd  spell  deceiving. — 
But  a  chaim  of  Satan's  weaving, 

Luring  souls  to  death,"  he  said, 
•"With  some  cunning  incantation, 
From  the  pastures  of  salvation, 
To  this  deadly  desolation," — 

Then  he  crossed  himself  and  fled. 

Still  the  traveller,  worn  and  weary, 
Wand'ring  o'er  the  deserts  dreary, 
i?ees  that  phantom  dim  and  eerie, 

Gleaming,  beck'ning  far  away. 
But  it  flees  his  longing  vision 
Like  a  spectre  in  derision, 
Tades  its  gorgeous  gleam  elysian, 

As  a  dream  at  break  of  day. 


350  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Joe  Stokes — A  First-Class  Desperado — Sanguinary  Combat — Kills  His 
Man  at  Sacramento  and  Comes  to  Los  Angeles — An  Episode  in  San 
Francisco — Ned  McGowan — The  Panama  Kiot  and  Massacre — A 
Heroic  Defence— Glorious  Death— A.  H.  Clark— His  Farewell  to 
Angel  Creditors. 

DECEMBER,  '54,  I  first  met  the  subject  of  this  brief 
sketch,  and  this  was  the  circumstance  of  our  meeting  and 
first  acquaintance.  Having  been  on  a  scout  in  the  Cajon 
Pass,  and  on  my  return  having  dined  sumptuously  at  old  man 
Thompson's,  the  pioneer  tavern-keeper  at  El  Monte,  which  was 
just  beginning  to  smile  under  the  benign  influence  of  American 
squatter  sovereignty,  which  said  squatter  sovereignty  produced 
the  reverse  of  a  smile  on  the  Workmans,  Rowlands  and  Tem- 
ples who  owned  lands  in  the  historic  "  Monte,"  and  had  herds 
roaming  ad  libitum  therein  and  thereabout.  Oh,  no  !  When 
the  Rowland  or  the  Workman  would  miss  a  cow,  a  heifer,  or 
a  bullock,  they  would  never  suspect  a  Monte  squatter  of  being 
a  beef  eater  !  It  would  not  have  been  safe  to  have  entertained, 
or  at  most  to  have  expressed,  any  such  suspicion,  and  further- 
more, because  did  not  the  said  sovereigns  come  from  the  land  of 
hog  and  hominy  and  corn  whisky,  and  had  not  been  here  long 
enough  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  habits  and  tastes  of  the 
country  ?  The  Monte  promised  to  be  the  paradise  of  the  far- 
mer ;  the  face  of  the  earth  would  smile  whenever  touched  by 
the  hardy  pioneer,  and  crops  of  corn  would  grow  almost  without 
labor. 

So  prolific  was  the  soil,  that  the  pioneer  bed  posts,  table  legs 
and  benches  would  put  forth  verdure  and  take  root,  reattach 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  351 

themselves  to  the  soil,  and  again  become  real  estate.  Such  was 
really  the  case  at  El  Monte,  particularly  so  at  Thompson's  Wil- 
low Grove  House,  and  this  is  the  way  it  so  came  to  pass : 

Willow  poles  were  the  great  staple  of  El  Monte.  They  were 
used  for  houses,  fences,  pig-pens,  corn-cribs 'and  all  kinds  of 
furniture,  and  as  mud  floors  were  the  order  of  the  times,  a  bed- 
post would,  when  sat  on  a  damp  mud  floor  (and  the  floors  at 
El  Monte  were  always  damp),  at  once  take  root,  and  within 
the  briefest  space  of  time  the  occupants  of  the  original  rude 
couch  would  find  themselves  enveloped  in  a  canopy  of  sylvan 
green.  Such  was  the  kind  of  real  furniture  found  at  Thompson's 
old  pioneer  Willow  Grove  House,  where  this  truthful  Ranger 
gormandized  on  roast  beef,  beefsteak,  beef  boiled  with  cabbage, 
and  beef  soup,  after  his  lonely  and  arduous  ride  and  short 
rations,  as  before  stated. 

After  dinner  and  a  gossip  with  mother  Thompson  and  her 
two  interesting  daughters,  the  Ranger  hied  himself  to  the 
Mission  Headquarters,  and  it  being  Sunday,  the  bar  was  being 
over  well  patronized.  Dismounting  and  sending  an  Indian  in 
quest  of  barley  for  my  mustang  charger,  I  sat  down  to  take  in 
the  surroundings  of  the  classic  Headquarters. 

There  must  have  been  at  least  three  hundred  persons  in  and 
around  the  place.  "  Old  Jackson,"  the  village  pettifogger,  stood 
behind  the  bar  dealing  out  whisky  to  the  American,  aguar- 
diente to  the  Mexican  and  Indian,  angelica  to  the  feminine 
angels  therein  congregated,  and  a  miscellaneous  mixture  to 
the  squaws  who  were  just  beginning  to  get  hettarious.  Two 
Monte  games  were  in  full  blast  in  the  "  Saloon,"  cock-fighting 
and  a  Mexican  circus  going  it  at  2:40  in  the  rear,  and  a  horse 
race  about  to  come  off  in  front.  Roy  Bean  in  all  the  pomp 
and  glory  of  being  the  cock  of  the  walk,  walked  up  and  down, 
in  and  around,  bucking  here  and  there,  and  offering  to  bet  on 
his  favorite  cock,  making  a  "cow"  for  the  horse  race,  dressed  in 
his  usual  Mexican  costume — silver-hilted  bowie  and  pair  of 


352  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

navies,  showing  and  assuming  all  the  importance  and  brief 
authority  of  lording  it  over  the  Headquarters  and  all  that 
reckless  throng.  A  large  percentage  was  Americans,  desperate, 
worthless  fellows,  generally,  the  summit  of  whose  ambition  was 
a  horse,  a  woman  for  the  time,  a  good  revolver,  and  a  "stake" 
to  play  monte  on. 

Soon  after  the  arrival  at  Headquarters  there  arrived  an 
elegantly-dressed,  handsome  young  fellow  of  possibly  twenty 
years  of  age,  of  exceedingly  graceful  and  polite  demeanor,  of 
smooth,  clean,  and  such  exceedingly  neat  appearance  as  would 
at  once  suggest  his  employment  behind  the  counter  of  a 
fancy  dry  good  store. 

Dismounting  and  good  naturedly  entering  headquarters,  he 
carelessly  leaned  against  the  counter,  and  while  quietly  survey- 
ing the  scene,  he  was  rudely  accosted  by  a  ruffianly-looking 
fellow,  who  went  around  with  the  swaggering  intent  of  having 
a  fight  or  a  foot-race.  He  seemed  a  sort  of  free  rover,  who 
knew  no  one  by  name,  neither  did  any  one  seein  to  acknowledge 
an  intimacy  with  him.  Taking  a  position  directly  in  front  of 
the  young  man,  with  a  querulous  and  derisive  grin,  surveying 
him  from  head  to  foot,  said : 

"  Well;  whar  in  hell  did  yer  come  from  ?  " 

"I,"  said  the  young  man,  "Why,  I  just  came  from  Los 
Angeles." 

"Ye  werent  raised  thar,  war  ye?"  said  Mr.  Bully. 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  the  young  man;  I  was  not  'reared'  in  Los 
Angeles.  I  came  from  New  York." 

"  Whar  !  whar  did  ye  say  ?  "  staring  with  evident  mistifica- 
tion  in  the  youngster's  face^ 

Said  the  young  man;  "New  York,  sir,  New  York.  Of 
course  you  know  where  New  York  is." 

"  I  know  whar  New  York  is  ?  v  I  jest  don't ;  but  reckon  its 
away  up  North  sumwha  whar  ye  pries  the  sun  up  with  a 
handspike.  Is  it  not  so,  sah  ?  " 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  853 

"  The  sun  never  sets  on  New  York,  sir,"  responded  the 
young  man. 

Then  came  a  banter  for  a  fight,  which  the  young  man 
politely  declined.  Then  the  bully's  demeanor  became  still 
more  overbearing,  until  he  declared  himself  to  be  "  the  Wild 
"Wolf  of  the  Arkansaw,"  and  said  : 

"I  was  the  bloodiest  man  in  the  Cherokee  Nation;  I  am  a 
half-breed  Cherokee,  I  am,  and  I  belonged  to  the  Ridge  party, 
and  I've  killed  more  Ross  men  than  any  dozen  of  men  in  the 
party.  I  killed  two  Mexicans  in  New  Mexico,  on  my  way  out 
here,  and  I  killed  a  soldier  at  Fort  Yuma,  and  then  dared  old 
Heintzelman  to  take  me  up.  I've  been  here  three  weeks,  and 
haint  killed  no  one  yet,  and  I'm  going  to  kill  you  if  you  just 
open  your  mouth.  I'll  give  these  Mexicans  a  chance  to  have  a 
funeral." 

"  Please,  sir,  don't  let  them  bury  me  alive,"  said  the  young 
man,  ironically. 

"  Stranger,  do  yer  know  who  ye  are  talkin'  to  this  kinder 
way  ?  Let  me  hear  from  yer.  I'm  from  the  Cherokee  Nation, 
and  I  shoot,  cut  and  kill,  I  do." 

At  this  stage  of  proceedings  Roy  came  on  the  scene,  and 
informed  the  citizen  from  the  Cherokee  Nation  that  he  must 
desist  from  molesting  the  boy,  and  that  being  in  his  house  he 
would  protect  him. 

The  boy  thanked  Roy  politely,  and  said :  "  The  gentleman  is 
not  dangerous,  in  my  opinion,  and  won't  hurt  me."  Now  the 
volcano  burst  forth.  ''Get  out  of  the  way,  I'm  going  to 
shoot,"  said  "  the  bloodiest  man." 

A  general  rush  was  made  for  the  four  doors,  as  was  always 
the  case  when  a  fight  was  imminent.  The  boy  stood  quiet 
and  smiling  until  the  bloodiest  man  laid  his  hand  on  his 
revolver,  when,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  boy  had  the 
muzzle  of  a  small  revolver  within  a  foot  of  the  pit  of  the 

desperado's  stomach,  when,  with  a  voice  as  polite  and  gentle  as 
23 


354  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGEK. 

if  soliciting  the  hand  of  a  fair  lady  in  a  quadrille,  said  :  "My 
dear  sir,  hold  up  your  hands  or  I'll  kill  you  dead." 

With  his  eye  steadily  resting  on  the  eye  of  the  bully,  who, 
feeling  that  he  had  found  his  master,  had  mistook  his  man, 
mechanically  obeyed. 

"Now,"  said  the  boy,  "unbuckle  your  belt  and  let  that  six- 
shooter  fall,"  which  without  demur  was  done. 

"Now  take  your  position  at  the  corner  of  the  room,"  point- 
ing to  the  place  indicated.  The  cowed  bully  obeyed,  and  the 
boy  picked  up  the  revolver,  then  called  for  a  cigar,  and  quietly 
lighted  it. 

The  crowd  now  recovered  from  the  panic,  looked  on  the 
strange  proceeding  in  mute  wonder. 

"You  stay  there  till  I  call  for  you  or  I'll  kill  you,"  said  the 
boy,  puffing  vigorously  at  his  cigar,  and  all  the  time  keeping 
his  eye  on  his  disarmed  foe. 

When  tfce  boy  got  his  cigar  well  started,  he  walked  quietly 
up  to  the  bully  with  his  little  revolver  presented,  and  said : 
"Sir,  hold  your  hands  behind  your  back.  I'm  going  to  stick 
the  fiery  end  of  this  cigar  in  your  nose,  and  you  must  let  it 
remain  there  until  it  goes  out,  and  if  you  flinch,  sniffle  or 
or  attempt  to  take  it  out  "  I'll  make  a  funeral  for  these 
Mexicans." 

He  then  proceeded  to  put  his  threat  into  execution  by  thrust- 
ing the  fiery  end  of  the  cigar  in  the  ruffian's  nose,  and  then 
stepping  back  to  the  counter,  said:  "Gentlemen,  resume  your 
games,  there  will  be  no  farther  trouble,"  still  keeping  a  dead 
aim  on  the  bully,  who  stood  the  burning  like  a  martyr  for  a 
full  minute,  when  the  strange  youth,  handing  the  bully's  pistol 
to  Roy,  said:  "When  I'm  gone  give  him  his  revolver,  unless 
he  would  like  to  step  outside  and  exchange  shots  with  me  like  a 
man.  My  name  is  Joe  Stokes,  and  I  can  whip  any  man  in 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  355 

California  who  don't  like  me,  and  I  like  to  lay  for  such  soft 
snaps  as  the  '  Wild  Wolf  of  the  Arkansas/" 

A  hoot,  a  general  hurrah  in  English,  and  "  Viva  el  mucha- 
cho  tan  valiente"  went  up  from  the  Mexicans,  and  /the 
"  bloodiest  man "  was  hooted  and  pelted  from  the  crowd,  and 
"little  Joe  Stokes"  was  the  Napoleon  of  the  "  San  Gabriel 
Headquarters"  until  a  late  hour  in  the  day,  when  he  and  myself 
rode  into  Los  Angeles.  He  was  the  greatest,  bravest  and  most 
magnanimous  of  all  the  desperadoes  of  early  times,  and  who  he 
was,  what  he  did,  how  he  died,  and  how  in  dying  he  dealt 
death  and  destruction  around  him,  will  be  next  in  order. 

Joe  Stokes  was  a  brother  of  the  Stokes  who  killed  Jim  Fisk. 
so  I  understand,  and  belonged  to  a  fighting  family.  The  father 
of  the  Stokes'  was  a  banker  at  Philadelphia.  Joe  was  a  book- 
keeper in  Sacramento  in  1852,  and  was  about  twenty  years  old., 
The  "Woodcock,"  the  "Humboldt"  and  the  "Empire"  were 
the  three  principal  of  the  many  flourishing  gambling  houses 
that  abounded  in  the  "  Crescent  City."  After  business  hours 
it  was  the  custom  of  the  moral  denizens  of  that  fast  place  to 
become  lookers-on  at  these  fashionable  places  of  gilded  vice. 
Among  other  frequenters  was  poor  Joe,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
once  in  a  while  "  bucking  a  slug  or  two."  Joe,  however,  was 
quiet,  well-behaved,  and  extremely  gentlemanly  in  his  manners, 
and  almost  timid  in  his  retiring  modesty,  and  was,  at  the  time 
of  his  first  appearance  in  and  around  the  "Humboldt"  and 
"  Woodcock,"  the  last  person  in  the  world  that  might  be  sus- 
pected of  becoming  a  debutant  in  the  bloody  arena  of  the 
desperado.  Such,  nevertheless,  was  the  case.  He  killed  a 
gambler,  which  was  his  first  appearance  on  the  stage  of  death. 
Tom  Collins  was  a  full-fledged  scion  of  Red  River  chivalry, 
who  could  draw  a  Colt  or  wield  a  bowie  equal  to  the  lead- 
ing artist  of  the  time.  Tom  was  eminent  as  a  first-class 
fighter,  and  was  master  of  one  of  the  numerous  monte  banks  in 
full  blast  at  the  "  Humboldt,"  and  Joe  was  bucking  thereat, 


356  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

and  detected  Tom  in  "  drawing  waxed  cards "  while  dealing, 
and  boldly  accused  him  of  the  dishonorable,  and  at  the  time 
regarded  by  the  sporting  fraternity,  reprehensible  act. 

Tom  frowned  on  Joe  as  a  lion  might  be  supposed  to  frown 
on  a  rat,  and  gave  him  just  two  minutes  to  leave  the  house, 
threatening  death  in  case  of  refusal,  or  if  he  ever  caught  him 
within  its  sacred  portals. 

Joe  quietly  dared  the  gambler  to  put  him  out,  whereupon 
Tom  sprang  from  his  seat,  out  with  his  revolver  and  blazed 
away  at  Joe  who  quietly  folded  his  arms  and  informed  the 
cowardly  ruffian  of  his  being  unarmed  and  if  "you  are  cowardly 
enough  to  shoot  an  unarmed  man  then  blaze  away.  I  don't 
belong  to  the  breed  that  runs." 

The  brave  Tom  fired  two  more  shots,  Joe  standing  at  ten 
feet  distanca  and  defiantly  looking  the  would-be  murderer  in 
the  eye.  The  first  shot  cut  Joe's  hair,  the  second  passed 
between  his  arm  and  his  body,  and  the  third  hit  him  in  the 
muscle  of  the  arm,  inflicting  a  severe  and  dangerous  flesh 
wound.  At  this  stage  of  the  game  a  bystander  ran  up  and 
gave  Joe  a  loaded  revolver,  and  the  brave  Collins  ran  behind  a 
column  supporting  the  ceiling  above  and  fired  the  fourth  shot, 
missing  Joe,  who  in  the  meantime  deliberately  aimed  and  fired 
at  the  only  exposed  part  of  Tom's  body,  hitting  him  in  the 
neck  and  killing  him  instantly.  From  thenceforward  Joe 
Stokes  became  a  terror.  He  seemed  to  delight  in  broils  and 
was  only  happy  when  mixed  up  in  a  first  class  fight,  always 
refused  to  take  an  unfair  advantage,  and  was  never  known 
to  come  out  second  best.  He  absolutely  seemed  to  delight 
in  danger,  was  never  quarrelsome,  always  in  good  humor, 
cool,  quiet  and  calculating,  he  was  "  without  doubt  the  most 
dangerous  man  in  California,"  and  so  said  good  old  Recorder 
Baker,  of  San  Francisco,  in  1855,  while  imposing  a  fine  on 
Joe  for  some  small  affray.  To  bring  out  a  salient  point  in 
Joe's  character,  I  must  take  up  the  "  ubiquitous  "  and  vene- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  357 

rable  Ned  McGowan  who,  by  the  bye,  has  been  reminiscencing 
San  Francisco,  and  this  truthful  and  impartial  author  feels 
constrained  to  reminiscence  Ned,  which  he  will  now  commence 
to  do  in  finishing  up  our  present  hero. 

Ned  McGowan;  what  memories  historical,  political,  warlike, 
tragic,  dramatic,  melodramatic,  farcical,  comic  and  amorous, 
cluster  around  thy  name  Oh,  Ned  !  sublime  relic  of  American 
chivalry  never  to  be  known  again,  for  thou  art  the  last 
of  thy  kind.  When  thy  gray  locks  go  down  to  an  honored 
grave,  thy  deeds  of  unselfish  and  noble  generosity  will  survive 
thee,  if  not  on  the  page  of  history,  then  surely  in  the  memory 
of  all  who  in  the  glorious  times  of  the  argonaut  and  the- 
pioneer  knew  thee 

"  So  gillant  in  love  and  so  dauntless  in  war." 

In  morals  and  chivalry  Ned  was  emphatically  an  exaggerated 
edition  of  Aaron  Burr.  In  1855,  what  Jack  Powers  was  to 
Santa  Barbara,  Judge  Edward  McGowan  was  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. -  In  '56,  when  Ned  shook  the  sands  of  the  Bay  City 
from  his  feet,  and  hied  him  in  the  direction  of  the  "  City  of 
Vineyards,"  the  halo  of  glory  that  surrounded  San  Francisco 
the  peerless,  departed  with  him,  and  the  blighted  metropolis 
never  recovered  from  the  blow  of  Ned's  involuntary  emigra- 
tion. The  price  of  drinks  went  down  from  four  to  two  bits 
in  less  than  a  week.  Oh  !  it  was  a  sad  falling  off,  indeed  it 
was.  Alas !  Alas ! 

In  '52  the  author  first  met  the  gallant  McGowan  whose 
magnificent  Magyar-like  moustache  was  at  that  time  whitened 
by  the  frosts  of  nearly  fifty,  northern  winters. 

In  the  zenith  of  his  California  prosperity  McGowan  had 
formed  a  convenient  connexion  with  a  blonde  beauty  of  La 
Belle  France,  on  whom  the  amorous  Judge  lavished  all  the 
wealth  of  his  ardent  affections  and  showered  his  golden  tribute 
without  stint.  Whatever  there  was  of  luxury  in  the  volup- 


&>8  '  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

tuous  city  in  the  way  of  high  living,  expensive  suppers,  fine 
turnouts,  wardrobe,  jewelry  and  fine  cottage  on  Pike  street. 
the  generous  McGowan  procured  for  this  fair  and  frail  daughter 
of  fickle  France.  Now  it  so  happened  that  the  Democratic- 
horizon  in  California  in  '55  was  obscured  by  the  Know-Nothing 
eclipse,  and  whatever  of  misfortune  befel  the  California  De- 
mocracy was  most  keenly  felt  by  McGowan.  because  McGowan 
was  the  Democracy  of  California  and  the  Democracy  of  Cali- 
fornia was  Edward  McGowan.  Now,  therefore,  be  it  under- 
stood, that  the  frail  sisterhood  on  the  Pacific  slope  are  and  ever 
have  been  the  best  barometers  of  flush  times,  and  hard  times 
as  well,  and  Mademoiselle  was  no  exception  to  the  generality 
of  her  kind,  but  if  anything  more  acute,  and  felt  the  premoni- 
tory tremor  of  coming  misfortune  to  her  over-generous  pro- 
tector. The  Judge  owned  the  fee  simple  to  the  cottage  on 
Pike,  worth  maybe  $15,000.  To  obtain  a  transfer  of  the  title 
papers  to  herself  this  adventurous  daughter  of  Gaul  lavished 
her  persuasive  powers  on  her  flexible  lover,  and  with  perfect 
success.  She  argued  with  the  Judge  that  in  his  declining  years 
he  would  have  a  home  wherein  to  betake  himself  in  case  of  a 
lame  leg  or  a  rainy  day,  a  hook  whereon  to  hang — a  prop  of 
support.  The  deed  was  duly  signed,  sealed,  delivered  and 
recorded — and  lo !  a  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dream. 
The  venomous  vixen  told  the  Judge  that  she  had  no  further 
use  for  him  and  that  he  would  her  a  "favor  personal  do"  to 
vamose  her  ranch,  to  vacate  her  premises, — in  vulgar  parlance, 
to  get  out,  and  when  the  indignant  Judge  attempted  to  remon- 
strate a  stalwart  son  of  Gaul  put  in  an  appearance  and  offered 
a  physical  argument  to  that  so  sweetly  urged  by  his  mistress. 
So  the  Judge  stood  not  on  the  order  of  his  going,  but  went  at 
once.  This  happened  in  December,  '55,  and  at  that  time  this 
truthful  historian  with  the  celebrated  A.  H.  Clark  (who  has 
been  heretofore  mentioned  as  one  of  the  Ecuadorian  Filibusters) 
as  a  room-mate,  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  the  victim  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  359 

this  infernal  French  duplicity.  Our  lodging  house  was  on 
Dupont.  near  Sacramento,  and  only  a  block  and  a  half  from 
the  cottage  on  Pike,  and  kept  by  Madame  Teresa  Show.  One 
Sunday  afternoon  at  about  four  o'clock,  while  several  of  us, 
Ned  being  one,  were  quietly  enjoying  ourselves  in  the  Madame's 
front  parlor  we  were  startled  by  a  terrific  explosion,  and  hur- 
riedly emerging  from  the  house  betook  ourselves  in  the  direc- 
tion thereof,  which  proved  to  have  occurred  at  the  third  house 
from  Sacramento  on  Pike,  in  fact  was  at  the  late  love-nest  of 
the  venerable  McGowan  and  the  fair  French  blonde.  By  the 
time  we  were  on  the  ground  several  had  assembled,  among 
whom  we  found  Joe  Stokes,  apparently  the  most  unconcerned 
of  all.  The  alarm  of  fire  having  been  sounded,  the  Monu- 
mental Fire  Company  were  at  hand,  but  there  was  no  call  for 
their  service.  On  enquiring  within  it  was  ascertained  that 
some  one  had  deposited  an  immense  petard  under  the  window 
on  the  cottage  porch  and  fired  the  fuse  thereof,  that  the  French 
stalwart  aforesaid,  Mademoiselle's  man  of  all  work,  had  acci- 
dentally opened  the  door,  and  observing  the  sizzing  peculiarity, 
picked  it  up  and  pitched  it  toward  the  street,  but  it  exploded 
almost  on  the  instant  of  leaving  his  hand,  knocking  him  into 
the  next  midsummer  and  so  disfigured  the  front  of  that  Belle 
cottage  that  the  Judge  himself  would  not  have  recognized  it. 
The  affair  produced  a  sensation.  McGowan  was  arrested,  but 
easily  proved  an  alibi,  he  being  of  the  party  in  Madame  Show's 
parlor  when  the  petard  went  off.  Who  the  perpetrator  was 
was  enveloped  in  mystery,  and  light  never  shone  thereon,  but 
the  truth  is  that  in  the  month  of  March  following,  on  my  way 
to  Nicaragua,  Joe  Stokes  being  of  my  company,  he  informed  me 
that  he  was  the  very  person  that  attempted  to  blow  Ned's 
former  frail  one  into  smithereens.  He  said  : 

"I  once  had  a  fight  in  the  El  Dorado,  and  killed  a  French- 
man, and  but  for  .Judge  McGowan  it  would  have  gone  hard 
with  me.  The  Judge  placed  me  under  such  obligations  then 


360  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

that  I  was  bound  to  return  the  compliment  on  the  first  oppor- 
tunity ;  but,"  said  he,  "you  ought  to  have  seen  that  Johnny 
Crapaud  when  my  petard  exploded.  I  didn't  think  there 
was  a  piece  left  of  him  as  big  as  a  chew  of  tobacco.  I  guess  it 
killed  him." 

In  Nicaragua,  with  Stokes  and  some  forty  others,  I  boarded 
the  steamer  Cortez,  intending  to  seize  her  for  the  Nicaraguan 
Government.  The  Cortez  was  commanded  by  Captain  Napo- 
leon Collins,  U.  S.  N.,  who  in  place  of  permitting  us  to  seize  his 
craft,  captured  and  carried  us  to  Panama,  where  we  happened 
to  be  at  the  great  riot  and  massacre  of  April  6th,  1856,  in 
which  Stokes  was  killed.  This  affair  being  the  most  bloody 
and  terrible  of  all  of  the  circumstances  of  travel  to  and  from 
California,  I  take  the  liberty  of  this  digression  to  relate  it. 

THE    GREAT    PANAMA    RIOT    AND    MASSACRE. 

The  situation  of  affairs  in  Panama  at  the  commencement 
of  the  great  riot  was  this :  The  passengers  from  three  steam- 
ers— the  Golden  Gate,  from  San  Francisco,  with  about  nine 
hundred,  the  New  York  steamer  with  about  the  same  num- 
ber, the  steamer  from  New  Orleans  with,  say,  five  hundred, 
and  some  four  hundred  of  the  Cortez  passengers,  as  also  the 
passengers  by  the  British  steamers  from  the  South  American 
coast,  on  their  way  East  and  to  England,  aggregating  in  the 
whole  not  less  than  three  thousand  souls,  all  assembled  at  the 
railroad  depot,  making'  the  change,  the  Pacific  side  passengers 
taking  the  train  just  vacated  by  the  Eastern  side  passengers, 
who  were  to  go  on  board  the  Golden  Gate. 

The  cause  of  the  riot  was  that  a  drunken,  turbulent  Irishman, 
who  had  given  considerable  trouble  in  the  steerage  of  the 
New  York  steamer,  got  into  an  altercation  with  a  native  fruit 
vender  about  a  watermelon,  the  one  insisting  on  taking  the 
melon  without  pay,  and  the  other  demanding  an  equivalent 
for  his  merchandise.  A  fight  ensued,  and  some  passengers, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A*  RANGER.  361 

ignorant  of  the  cause,  ran  to  the  assistance  of  their  fellow 
when  other  natives  interfered  in  behalf  of  their  countryman, 
and  a  general  fight  took  place,  which  in  a  few  moments  assumed 
the  proportions  of  a  raging,  turbulent,  uncontrollable,  furious 
and  dreadful  riot.  It  was  near  sunset  when  the  firing  com- 
menced, and  at  the  same  time  all  the  bells  of  the  Barrio  de 
Santa  Ana,  a  vile  suburb,  commenced  ringing,  with  a  general 
rushing  of  the  vagabond  part  of  the  populace  toward  the  depot. 
At  the  moment  referred  to,  the  writer  hereof  was  enjoying  a 
post-prandial  siesta  and  cigar  in  the  front  parlor  of  one  of  the 
hospitable  mansions  of  the  city,  and  stepped  on  the  side- walk 
just  in  time  to  see  the  soldiery  go  by  in  full  force,  with  fixed 
bayonets  and  at  a  double-quick,  in  the  direction  of  the  scene  of 
commotion.  At  the  same  time  the  ladies  of  the  house  raised  a 
cry  of  "revolution!  revolution!"  which  was  taken  up  and 
passed  from  door  to  door,  followed  by  an  instantaneous  barri- 
cading of  doors  and  windows,  which  they  all  seemed  to  under- 
stand as  if  by  intuition.  I  at  once  ran  the  distance  of  a  block 
to  my  hotel — the  Aspinwall — ran  up  stairs  and  buckled  on  my 
revolver,  and  started  out  to  find  the  only  egress  from  the  house, 
an  immense  door,  firmly  closed  and  barricaded.  I  then  went  to 
the  balcony  above  and  took  a  piece  of  carpet  out  of  a  room,  twist- 
ed one  end  around  a  railing,  got  a  lady  passenger  and  guest  to 
hold  on  to  one  end  to  keep  it  from  slipping,  and  I  so  dropped 
to  the  street,  and  hied  me  in  the  direction  of  the  great  uproar. 
Emerging  from  the  dilapidated  city  gate  in  that  direction,  I  was 
called  by  name,  and  turning  to  a  crowd  of  gentlemen  in  seem- 
ing conference,  I  at  once  recognized  Ran  Runnels,  an  American 
resident  of  Panama,  a  man  of  great  bravery  and  influence,  and 
married  to  the  niece  of  the  Governor.  He  requested  me  to 
remain  with  them,  informing  me  that  all  the  approaches  to  the 
depot  were  barricaded,  and  it  would  be  sure  death  for  me  to 
attempt  to  get  there.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  the  Governor  here  is 
only  awaiting  the  arrival  of  his  staff  to  proceed  thither  and 


3.62  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

•direct  the  troops  in  dispersing  the  rioters,  and  we  will  go  along 
with  them."  By  the  time  he  had  done  speaking  the  officials 
referred  to  arrived,  and  the  party  started.  The  din  by  this 
time  had  assumed  the  proportions  of  a  full-grown  pandemo- 
nium— the  screaming  of  hundreds  of  women  and  children,  the 
ories  of  rage  and  defiance  of  the  more  determined  of  the  men, 
the  hoots  and  yells  of  the  natives,  the  firing  of  guns  and  the 
smashing  and  crashing  of  doors  and  windows,  the  groans  of  the 
dying  and  the  cries  of  anguish  of  men  who  were  heing  literally 
cut  into  pieces — and,  to  add  to  the  infernal  character  of  the 
place,  was  the  screaming  of  the  locomotive,  that  was  vainly 
endeavoring  to  escape  with  the  train  partly  filled  with  passen- 
gers. At  this  state  of  affairs  we  arrived  at  a  barricade  near 
the  Ocean  House,  and  a  hundred  yards  from  the  depot,  when 
we  were  surrounded  by  an  immense  crowd  of  natives,  under  the 
leadership  of  a  desperate-looking  white  Spaniard,  all  flourishing 
their  cutlasses,  and  demanding  of  the  Governor  an  order  for 
arms  from  the  Government  arsenal,  and  threatening  him  with 
instant  death  if  he  did  not  comply.  I  stood  within  arm's 
length  of  the  Governor,  and  remember  his  reply  as  well,  word 
for  word,  as  though  they  were  spoken  but  yesterday.  He  said 
to  the  leader,  "  I  know  that  this  mob  would  murder  me  ;  I 
know  that  you  have  long  wished  for  an  opportunity  to  do  so  ; 
but  now  hear  me,  all  of  you  :  Sooner  than  issue  an  arm  for 
any  purpose  but  for  the  suppression  of  this  infamous  disorder, 
I  would  suffer  myself  to  le  torn  limb  from  limb!"  The 
Governor  was  a  tall,  black-bearded,  noble-looking  Spaniard, 
and  I  say  this,  after  a  lapse  of  twenty-nine  years,  in  his  justifi- 
cation, and  for  the  reason  that  at  the  time,  and  soon  thereafter, 
the  press  of  the  United  States  accused  the  Governor  of  partici- 
pating in  the  riot.  Not  so.  The  very  contrary  was  the  case. 
The  Ran  Runnels  of  this  chapter  is  now  United  States  Consul 
at  San  Juan  del  Elar  Nicaragua,  and  has  so  been  for  many 
years. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  363 

About  this  time,  however,  I  was  recognized,  and  a  cry  was 
raised :  "  Kill  the  big  Filibuster ! "  when  Ran  Runnels  step- 
ped quietly  up  and  took  that  great,  desperate-looking  Spaniard, 
the  mob-leader,  gently  by  the  collar,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
said  to  ine,  "  Don't  shoot  unless  I  -kill  this  devil,  and  then  let 
loose  and  we  will  break  through  the  crowd."  I  was  utterly 
astounded  at  the  gentleness  and  firmness  of  his  voice  and  man- 
ner. Then  to  the  desperado,  still  continuing  his  hold  on  the 
collar,  he  said,  in  an  almost  whisper:  "Keep  those  dogs  off; 
and  now,  Don  Diego,  one  motion  or  effort  on  the  part  of  these 
vagabonds  here  to  strike  either  my  friend  or  myself,  and  I  will 
send  an  ounce  of  lead  through  the  waistband  of  your  pants." 

At  the  same  time  I  saw  that  he  had  the  villain  completely 
subdued;  with  one  hand  so  gently  bu  his  collar,  he  was  holding 
in  the  other  a  derringer  at  the  pit  of  Don  Diego's  stomach. 
"Keep  cool,  Captain,"  he  would  say  to  me;  "and  now.  Senor, 
you  must  escort  us  through  this  crowd,  and,  when  you  do  so  in 
a  satisfactory  manner  to  me,  I  will  release  you;  but  one  threat 
or  demonstration  on  their  part,  and  you,  Don  Diego,  are  a  dead 
man."  It  was  perfectly  astonishing  to  see  what  an  influence 
that  one  man  had  over  that  surging  mass  of  vile  humanity. 
At  the  wave  of  his  hand  they  would  fall  back  as  gently  as  a 
receding  billow  on  the  sandy  shores  of  the  ocean,  and  so  he 
safely  delivered  us  on  the  outskirts  of  that  murderous  pack  of 
hell-hounds. 

"Now,"  said  Kan,  "you  have  so  well  complied  with  my 
little  request  that  I  will  keep  my  promise  with  you — go ! 
Now,  Captain,  let  us  get  to  your  hotel.  We  can  do  no  good 
here,  and  we  may  save  that  place  if  not  too  late.  Oh,  God  ! " 
cried  he,  "is  it  possible  that  these  helpless  passengers  are  to  be 
butchered  in  this  way  ?  " 

By  this  time  the  noise  had  become  positively  terrific.  No 
tongue  or  pen  could  describe  it.  With  all  my  subsequent 
experience  in  Nicaragua  and  on  the  battlefields  of  the  great 


364  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

civil  war,  1  witnessed  nothing  that  could  begin  to  compare  with 
it  in  point  of  diabolical  horror. 

After  several  narrow  escapes  from  assassination,  we  arrived 
at  the  Aspinwall  and  found  everything  in  confusion.  The 
place  had  been  twice  attacked,  and  the  assailants  were  driven 
off  by  the  Filibusters,  who  had  assembled,  some  twenty  in 
number,  in  obedience  to  previous  orders.  It  was  some  eight  or 
v  nine  o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  the  hotel,  where  we  found  some 
dozen  only,  the  others  having  gone  to  the  place  of  riot  in  search 
of  myself  and  others  of  the  company  known  to  be  mixed  up  in 
the  fight.  They,  however,  returned  in  the  course  of  an  hour, 
having  been  unable  to  do  more  than  skirmish  on  the  rear  of  the 
main  body  of  the  mob. 

They,  however,  did  good  service  with  their  revolvers,  and 
came  back  to  the  hotel  with  a  large  number  of  passengers, 
whom  they  had  picked  up,  and  also  accompanied  by  quite  a 
number  of  Jamaica  men — so  called  in  Panama — and  mostly 
employes  of  the  Railroad  and  Steamship  Companies.  We  at 
once  went  to  work  to  organize  offensive  and  defensive  opera- 
tions. A  party  of  Filibusters  were  sent  out,  accompanied  by 
the  Jamaica  men — the  Filibusters  to  act  either  offensively  or 
defensively,  and  the  Jamaicans  to  gather  up  the  panic- 
stricken  and  fugitive  passengers.  The  arrangement  worked 
admirably.  The  Jamaicans,  on  account  of  their  color  and 
knowledge  of  the  Spanish  language,  were  enabled  to  penetrate 
the  mob.  when,  by  speaking  English  to  the  passengers,  they 
inspired  immediate  confidence,  arid  whom  they  would  guide  to 
the  Filibusters  in  the  rear,  who,  when  a  sufficient  number  had 
been  collected,  would  escort  them  to  the  Aspinwall. 

The  Jamaica  negroes  acted  nobly,  and  were  the  means  of 
saving  hundreds  of  lives,  frequently  refusing  large  proffers  of 
reward  from  those  whom  they  had  saved.  And  so  we  kept  up 
our  sallies  and  rescues  during  the  night,  all  of  which  time  the 
infernal  uproar  continued.  At  about  midnight  regular  volley 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  365 

firing  commenced,  and  continued  until  half  past  three  in  the 
morning.  It  was  the  soldiers  firing  through  the  thin  sides  of 
the  railroad  baggage-room,  where  some  hundreds  of  passengers, 
under  the  direction  of  Joe  Stokes,  the  "  little  Filibuster,"  had 
securely  barricaded  themselves  and  could  have  held  out  against 
the  mob  until  the  crack  of  doom  but  for  an  unfortunate  occur- 
rence. The  troops  under  the  direction  of  their  leader,  while 
endeavoring  to  disperse  the  mob  with  the  bayonet,  were  fired 
on  by  the  barricaded  passengers,  who  supposed  them  to  be  of 
the  murderous  mob.  The  soldiers  returned  the  fire,  became 
unmanageable,  and  thenceforward  acted  with  the  mob.  Few 
of  the  passengers  were  armed,  and  those  who  were  were  unsup- 
plied  with  ammunition  to  reload  their  pistols  when  fired  off, 
and  then  the  surprise,  the  panic — no  possibility  of  organized 
defense — the  only  two  efforts  at  organization,  the  Aspinwall 
and  the  baggage  room,  were  effected  solely  by  the  Filibusters. 
Stokes  defended  the  entrance  to  the  baggage  room,  during  the 
whole  night — passengers  loading  and  passing  revolvers  to  him, 
and  had  repulsed  repeated  charges  on  the  door,  both  by  the 
mob  and  the  soldiers,  who  were  now,  after  midnight  acting  as 
a  mob  and  without  organization.  During  the  fore  part  of  the 
night  Stokes  and  Bob  Marks,  a  watchman  at  the  depot,  had  got 
an  old  swivel  into  the  baggage-room,  loaded  it  to  the  muzzle  with 
boiler  rivets,  placed  it  in  position  in  the  main  entrance,  and 
kept  it  for  the  final  emergency,  which  they  knew  to  be  inevitable. 
At  half-past  three,  when  the  firing  had  ceased  from  within,  and 
when  about  every  one  inside  was  either  killed  or  disabled,  the 
military  mob  forced  the  door,  and  rushed  in  at  a  charge  bayo- 
net. Then  Stokes  opened  his  masked  battery.  When  the  mob 
received  that  full  and  unexpected  blast  of  boiler  rivets  directly 
in  the  face,  which  killed  outright  fifteen  of  the  soldiers  and 
wounded  many  more,  they  fell  back  on  the  pursuing  mob 
behind,  only  for  a  moment,  to  be  thrust  forward  again.  Stokes 
and  Marks  only  waited  long  enough  to  witness  the  effect  pro- 


366  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

duced  by  their  terrific  farewell.  The  two  heroes,  having  fired 
their  last  shot,  ran  up- stairs  into  the  telegraph-room,  and 
Stokes  had  succeeded  in  reloading  his  revolver,  and  had  turned 
to  go  out,  when  he  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  soldier  and  shot 
through  the  lungs.  Poor  Bob  Marks  "was  bayoneted  on  the 
spot.  All  the  wounded  in  the  baggage-room  were  brained  and 
bayoneted,  and,  except  the  general  sacking,  the  Panama  horror 
was  at  an  end.  Colonel  Garrido,  a  brave  and,  I  believe,  a 
humane  officer,  having  tried  without  avail  to  arrest  the  carnage 
in  the  baggage-room,  and  hearing  the  shot  up-stairs  that  killed 
poor  Stokes,  ran  up  in  time  to  save  him  from  being  bayoneted, 
administered  to  his  relief,  and  on  the  day  following,  with  the 
consent  of  the  Governor,  ordered  a  platoon  of  the  military  to 
fire  a  salute  over  his  grave.  Colonel  Garrido  himself,  being 
present,  said  :.  "Poor  fellow!  What  would  I  have  given  to 
have  saved  him  ?  He  was  the  bravest  man  I  ever  saw.'' 

Poor  Stokes,  only  a  wayward  boy.  was  the  hero  of  that 
night,  and  when  the  news  of  his  heroic  defence  of  those  passen- 
gers, and  his  death,  reached  San  Francisco,  a  movement  was  at 
once  set  on  foot  to  erect  a  monument  over  his  last  resting-place, 
but,  unfortunately,  Ned  McGowan  took  an  active  part  in  it, 
and  during  its  progress  the  great  Vigilance  Committee  rose. 
Ned  became  an- outlaw,  and  the  matter  was  forgotten.  Alas! 
poor  Stokes  !  He  died  the  death  of  a  hero  and  martyr,  and 
deserved  a  monument. 

Many  in  San  Francisco  and  Los  Angeles  certainly  remember 
Stokes  ;  if  so,  let  them  shed  a  tear  to  his  memory. 

The  result  of  this  great  enormity  was  the  murder  of  two  or 
three  hundred  defenceless  passengers  of  both  sexes  ;  the  exact 
number  was  never  known.  The  American  Consul  held  inquests 
over  the  bodies  of  sixty-three.  He  also  took  an  account  of 
$450,000  in  gold,  stolen  by  the  mob,  and  the  matter  has  since 
been  a  subject  of  diplomacy  between  our  Government  and  that 
of  New  Granada,  now  Columbia,  and  may  so  continue  to  be  for 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  367 

a  length  of  time  far  greater  than  the  lives  of  the  most  favored 
of  those  who  were  either  engaged  in  or  witnessed  it. 

Having  brought  out  the  name  of  Clark  in  this  chapter,  and 
having  heretofore  spoken  of  him,  I  may  be  pardoned  in  making 
this  chapter  a  little  longer  by  paying  a  slight  tribute  to  his. 
memory.  He  was  the  first  civil  appointee  of  the  Government 
who  came  to  Los  Angeles — he  coming  in  '52  to  look  after 
Uncle  Sam's  Customs  here  and  hereabout.  He  was  a  political 
protege  of  Senator  Gwinn,  a  noble  fellow,  a  polished  gentleman^ 
and  possibly  the  most  classical  scholar  of  the  age.  But  he  had 
no  capacity  for  looking  out  for  himself;  be  couldn't  make 
money,  was  always  in  debt.  In  '55  he  came  within  two  votes 
of  being  elected  Judge  of  Los  Angeles  county,  and  in  October 
of  which  year  he  left  here  and  went  to  San  Francisco,  remain- 
ing a  few  days  in  San  Pedro,  whence  he  sent  back  the  following 
manifesto  to  his  creditors  : 

"  Beard  the  lion  in  his  den — the  Douglas  in  his  hall." 

'<  BELOVED  CREDITORS — The  celebrated  English  orator, 
Charles  Fox,  fled  from  the  multiplicity  of  his  debts,  and 
sought  to  resuscitate  the  drooping  energies  of  exhausted 
nature,  amid  the  glorious  productions  of  that  famous  city 
where  the  gifted  Powers  first  drew  from  the  rude  marble,  a 
thing  of  matchless  beauty. 

"At  a  later  day  an  humbler  but  no  less  impulsive  speck  on 
the  surface  of  animated  existence,  retired  from  the  indignation 
of  confiding  money  gatherers,  and  on  the  margin  of  that  beauti- 
ful valley  which  stretches  in  '  airy  undulations '  from  the  waves 
of  the  Pacific  to  the  base  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  forgot  the 
magnitude  of  his  liabilities  in  the  pursuit  of  'calm  contempla- 
tion, and  poetic  ease.' 

"After  an  absence  of  several  weeks  Fox  wrote  back  to 
London  that  the  fevers  of  Florence  had  wrought  such  a 
damnable  change  in  his  appearance  that  his  oldest  creditors 
would  not  know  him.  A  week  has  only  passed  since  my  depart- 
ure from  Los  Angeles,  and  the  sea  breezes  of  San  Pedro  have 
already  so  tempered  the  ardors  of  youth  that  the  most  gen- 
erous sympathizer  in  my  fortunes  would  scarcely  recognize  the 
man  who  developed  in  others  so  many  weaknesses  of  the  human 
heart. 


368  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

"  Fox  returned  to  the  English  metropolis,  and  liquidated-his 
indebtedness  by  the  power  of  his  genius  and  his  eloquence.  I 
might  pursue  the  same  course,  gentlemen,  and  with  like  suc- 
cess, if  such  benefactions  of  nature  were  properly  appreciated 
in  this  age  of  dollars  and  cents.  But  circumstances  demand 
from  me  an  adjustment  of  a  far  different  character,  and  I  trust 
the  sentiments  which  have  enabled  me  to  outlive  the  storms  of 
adverse  life  may  afford  you  matter  of  personal  consolation  and 
themes  for  private  contemplation. 

"  The  most  of  you,  gentlemen,  belong  to  that  class  of  men  who 
have  immigrated  to  these  pleasant  latitudes  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  cupidity,  and  then  return  to 
feather  a  nest  in  the  place  which  threw  over  your  first  efforts  the 
cold  shadows  of  failure.  You  see  nothing  in  this  region  that 
appeals  to  the  higher  instincts  of  nature  and  allures  to  noble 
action.  Who  among  you  that  has  built  up  for  himself  a  per- 
manent and  generous  identity  ?  Who  has  struggled  for  the 
moral  and  intellectual  elevation  of  the  community  in  which  he 
lives  ?  Can  you  point  to  a  single  ornament  or  a  single  bless- 
ing conferred  in  a  manner  commensurate  with  your  capabilities  ? 
With  you  gold  is  the  standard  of  respectability  and  weigher  of 
excellence.  You  stand  in  this  beautiful  country,  which  God 
has  spread  out  for  the  theatre  of  progressive  civilization,  and 
manifest,  by  your  fierce  scramble  after  wealth,  a  disposition  to 
make  the  accumulation  of  money  the  paramount  consideration 
of  your  existence.  You  will  soon  depart  for  the  land  where 
the  energies  of  manhood  failed  to  find  their  oracles  of  hope  and 
of  success,  and  will  you  leave  behind  a  single  tribute  of  respect 
for  the  country  which  elevated  you  from  a  poverty  that  would 
otherwise  have  clung  as  the  poisoned  shirt  to  the  back  of  Her- 
cules ? 

"  Gentlemen,  your  accustomed  shrewdness  will  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  seeing  my  justification.  I  lay  it  down  as  an  axiom 
'well  worthy  of  general  acceptation'  that  a  permanent  citizen 
is  not  restiained  by  the  ordinary  rules  of  morality  in  his  efforts 
to  prevent  transient  speculators  from  bearing  away  the  circulat- 
ing medium  of  his  country.  The  contracting  of  debts  in  such 
cases  is  not  the  commission  of  an  error  to  be  deplored,  but  the 
introduction  of  a  virtue  to  be  admired.  To  you  the  commence- 
ment of  my  career  was  as  '  glorious  as  the  eve  of  a  battle — its 
termination'  sad  as  the  morrow  of  a  victory — and  yet  it  fur- 
nishes many  a  fruitful  and  significant  lesson.  The  failure  of 
an  obscure  individual  may  develop  truths  as  everlasting  as  any 
that  ever  resulted  from  the  wildest  revolution. 

"In  conclusion,  gentlemen,  remember  that  Jupiter  enshrined 
himself  in  a  shower  of  gold  to  corrupt  the  virtue  of  the  beau- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER. 


369 


tiful  Diana — that  mammon  poured  into  the  lap  of  Spain  deep 
streams  of  wealth  to  destroy  her  national  modesty — that  the 
love  of  money  may  cause  you  to  forget  the  higher  objects  of 
creation,  the  ordinary  incidents  of  humanity. 

ALBERTO." 

Poor  Albert !  he  was  too  refined  for  this  crude  world,  and 
died  in  1862,  dependent  on  a  brother,  W.  T.  Clark,  formerly  of 
Los  Angeles,  late  of  Indianapolis,  Indiana;  also  dead.  May 
they  both  rest  in  peace  is  the  prayer  of  one  who  loved  them  for 
their  many  virtues  and  was  blind  to  their  faults. 


370  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

The  Know  Nothings  Cany  the  Day  in  1855—  Downe}'  Again—  Aleck 
Bell  Again,  and  How  He  Won  a  Fine  Position,  and  How  He  Man- 
aged His  Friends  at  San  Quintin  —  James  King  of  William. 


HE  Know  Nothing  party  had  its  origin  in  New  York 
in  1853,  and  swept  the  land  like  a  whirlwind  for  a 
time.  It  reached  California  in  '55,  and  in  the  same 
year  found  its  grave  in  the  classic  land  of  Virginia,  Governor 
Henry  A.  Wise  being  the  Wellington  of  the  great  Waterloo  of 
the  party.  In  California  its  bugle  blast  of  battle  was  sounded 
in  June,  the  resonant  notes  of  which  swept  the  southern  plains, 
penetrated  the  canons  and  gorges  of  the  great  Sierras,  reached 
the  mountain  fastnesses  of  the  Trinity  and  Klamath,  and 
ascended  the  highest  habitable  peaks  of  the  snowy  range.  In 
September  its  fiery  battalion  marched  with  unbroken  front  and 
furious  tread,  crushing  down  all  opposition,  and  carried  the 
State  by  storm,  exhausted  itself,  and  died  in  December.  When 
the  Legislature  met,  in  January,  '56,  the  party  was  refused  the 
rights  of  honorable  sepulture.  Such  was  the  remarkable  rise, 
career  and  death  of  this  furious  faction.  The  first  misfortune 
that  befel  the  party  was  in  the  land  of  its  birth,  in  the  nomina- 
tion of  one  Daniel  Ullman  for  Governor  of  the  Empire  State. 
Ullman  was  a  foreigner,  and  as  the  creed  of  the  party  was 
political  proscription  to  foreigners,  the  nomination  was  a  fatal 
mistake.  Ullman  was  an  old  humbug,  who,  had  he  only  held 
his  peace,  would  have  been  elected  anyway,  so  formidable  was 
the  party  in  New  York  ;  but  he  opened  his  mouth,  and  sealed 
the  doom  of  the  party.  The  query  of  the  campaign  was, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  371 

"What  is  he?"  meaning  Ullman.  No  one  knew.  The 
gubernatorial  candidate  refused  to  tell,  and  the  answer  to  the 
question  was  that  "  Daniel  Ullman  is  a  Hindoo"  and  the 
party  at  that  New  York  election  was  effectually  Hindoo'd. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  some  survivor  of  the  great  native 
American  party  to  know  the  final  fate  of  its  illustrious  New 
York  standard-bearer,  and  this  truthful  writer  of  Reminis- 
cences will  claim  his  privilege  of  digression  and  take  great 
pleasure  in  winding  up  Ullman  in  history  as  he  did  in  fact,  in 
February,  1865,  when  the  "Hindoo"'  found  his  Waterloo  on 
one  of  the  bloodless  fields  of  the  great  civil  war.  In  1868  the 
"Hindoo"  came  to  New  Orleans  from  Washington  wearing  the 
stars  of  a  Brigadier,  and  surrounded  by  a  full-fledged  staff 
resplendent  in  blue,,  glitter  and  gold.  The  mission  of  these 
birds  of  brilliant  plumage  was  to  organize  an  army  of  negroes 
to  fill  the  bornb-proof  positions  while  the  true  boys  in  blue 
went  forth  to  fight  face  to  face  with  the  grim  graybacks  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy.  It  may  be  a  long  time  before  the  truth 
of  history  reveals  itself,  but  when  it  does  it  will  be  found  that 
for  effective  fighting  the  colored  soldiers  of  the  Union  were  not 
a  success,  but  were  certainly  equal  to  the  Generals,  Colonels 
and  subalterns  who  commanded  them.  Under  General  Banks 
the  "Hindoo's"  career  was  surpassingly  brilliant, — good  clothes, 
good  pay.  the  best  rations,  most  comfortable  tents  pitched  on 
positions  impregnable,  good  times  and  no  fighting,  no  hard 
knocks,  or  any  service  greater  than  standing  guard  and  raiding 
hen-roosts.  The  career  of  the  "  Corps  de  Afrique"  under  the 
"  Hindoo"  was  the  very  perfection  of  military  ease  and  idleness. 
Notwithstanding  all  this  good  cheer  and  an  unlimited  supply  of 
whisky,  the  "  Hindoo "  hungered  for  the  honors  of  the  battle- 
field, and  fretted  and  chafed  like  a  regular  Hindoo  tiger  to  be 
let  loose  on  the  foes  of  human  liberty.  But  no  !  the  flesh  and 
blood  of  these  dusky  warriors  was  too  sacred  to  be  sacrificed. 
White  men  were,  in  the  opinion  of  the  authorities,  the  only 


872  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

proper  food  for  gunpowder,  and  the  '•'  Hindoo,"  with  his  colored 
cohorts  to  the  number  of  about  10,000,  with  some  two  thou- 
sand white  veterans  to  guard  them,  was  forced  to  chew  the  cud 
of  military  disappointment  at  the  camp  of  Morganza,  twelve 
miles  below  the  mouth  of  Red  River,  on  the  Father  of  Waters, 
and  submit  to  a  life  of  military  inactivity,  while  the  thunder  of 
cannon  and  the  rattle  of  musketry  resounded  from  the  Rio 
Grande  to  the  Potomac. 

From  Morganza  to  the  Achafalaya  river  was  thirteen  miles. 
About  fifteen  miles  beyond,  at  a  place  called  Big  Cane,  a 
former  citizen  of  Los  Angeles,  a  Confederate  Brigadier,  J.  L. 
Brent,  commanded  a  small  force  of  Confederate  cavalry,  to 
watch  the  camp  at  Morganza,  a  Texas  fellow  named  Collins, 
and  a  gallant  Creole,  Carmouche  by  name,,  had  small  scouting 
parties  on  the  Peninsula,  formed  by  the  Mississippi,  the 
Achafalaya  and  Red  Rivers. 

This  was  the  military  situation  in  February  1865,  when  a  small 
party  of  civil  engineers  went  up  from  New  Orleans  to  examine 
the  condition  of  the  levees  near  the  mouth  of  Red  River,  and 
took  with  them  an  order  from  General  Canby  (who  had  relieved 
General  Banks)  for  an  escort  to  and  from  the  place  to  he 
examined.  In  compliance  with  the  order  the  "  Hindoo"  turned 
out  with  his  entire  staff,  marshaled  5,000  of  his  "Corps  de 
Afrique,"  with  drum  corps  and  bands  ;  Colonel  Chrysler,  with 
his  Second  New  York  Cavalry ;  Colonel  E.  J.  Davis,  with  his 
First  Texas  Cavalry,  the  Twenty-Fourth  Indiana  Infantry, 
and  Marlin's  New  York  Battery  of  rifled  guns,  with  ambulan- 
ces, medical  corps,  ammunition  and  provision  trains,  with 
three  wagons  to  carry  the  stores  (principally  whisky)  for  him- 
self and  bibulous  staff.  The  war  was  evidently  drawing  to  a 
close,  and  the  "  Hindoo"  had  not  as  yet  fleshed  his  maiden 
sword — his  "Corps  de  Afrique"  had  never  been  baptized  in 
the  fire  and  flame  of  battle,  and  here  was  an  opportunity  not 
to  be  lost. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  373" 

It  took  about  three  days  to  place  this  array  on  its  marching 
legs.  Finally  this  great  force,  in  numbers  greater  than  Wash- 
ington commanded  at  Monmouth,  marched  out  of  the  splendid 
fortifications  at  Morganza,  with  flags  flying,  drums  beating 
and  bands  playing  inspiriting  airs.  It  marched  forth,  first  the 
"  Corps  de  Afriqne"  with  skirmish  line  extending  from  river 
bank  to  swamp,  a  mile  back.  Second  in  order  of  march  was 
Marlin's  battery;  then  came  the  General  and  staff,  with  the 
New  York  Cavalry  regiment  as  a  body  guard;  next  the  white 
infantry,  and  the  Texas  cavalry  as  rear  guard. 

This  was  a  very  deliberately  planned  campaign,  and  by  the 
time  the  army  had  passed  over  the  space  of  three  miles,  the 
rattle  of  musketry  commenced  on  the  skirmish  line,  and  the 
"Hindoo"  sent  an  aide-de-camp  forward  to  learn  the  situation, 
who  went  off  like  a  rocket,  and  soon  returned,  his  war  horse 
covered  with  foam,  with  the  announcement  of  a  large  force  of 
"  rebels  in  front."  Now  the  "Corps  de  Afrique"  is  deployed 
in  line  of  battle  and  the  white  veterans  are  held  in  reserve. 
Marlin's  guns  are  unlimbered  and  run  into  battery  immediately 
in  rear  of  the  black  and  blue  battle  line.  Skirmishers  are 
rallied  on  the  batallions,  the  bugles  sound  the  advance,  the 
bands  play  the  charge,  the  "Hindoo"  and  staff  ply  their  canteens. 
The  "Corps  de  Afrique"  give  three  cheers  and  a  tiger,  bravely 
advance  and  open  a  terrific  fire  from  right  to  left,  from  river  to 
swamp.  The  "Hindoo"  and  his  staff  dash  along  the  roaring 
battle-line  cheering,  and  urging  it  on  to  victory,  and  to  "give 
no  quarter."  "  Remember  Fort  Pillow."  "  Give  'em  h— 11 !  " 
And  now  Marlin  is  ordered  forward,  the  "  Hindoo"  himself 
guiding  the  battery  into  position.  "  Now,  Marlin,  turn  loose 
my  war  dogs  and  make  'em  bite,"  was  the  "  Hindoo's  "  order. 
Marlin  seeing  no  enemy,  inquired,  "  General,  am  I  to  consider 
this  as  an  order  ?  "  and  the  genera]  put  a  flea  in  his  ear. 

Marlin  now  opened,  and  fired  thirty  rounds  from  his  battery, 
and  the  "Corps  de  Afrique"  kept  up  a  perfect  blaze  of 


374  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

battle.  The  "  Hindoo "  next  planned  a  combined  movement 
of  horse,  foot  and  artillery,  and  in  charging  over  the  field  to 
direct  the  movement  in  person,  having  become  so  waterlogged, 
he  fell  off  his  horse.  Colonel  Chrysler,  disgusted  with  the 
infernal  tomfoolery  (for  be  it  known,  patriotic  Americans,  there 
were  not  fifty  armed  enemies  within  thirty  miles  of  this  field  of 
the  "Hindoo's"  fall),  came  forward,  stopped  the  waste  of 
ammunition,  ordered  a  Sergeant  with  an  ambulance  and  guard 
to  take  charge  of  the  "Hindoo,"  which  they  did  in  the  most 
approved  New  York  style,  relieving  him  of  his  purse,  his 
watch,  diamond  pin,  studs  and  other  valuables  ;  then  placing 
the  dead  drunk  GENERAL  in  an  ambulance,  he  was  carted  back 
to  Morganza.  The  "Hindoo"  General  was  deprived  of  the  glory 
of  writing  a  report  of  this  bloodless  battle,  but  nevertheless  it 
was  reported,  and  now  finds  its  way  into  the  war  history.  The 
writer  of  this  warlike  episode  was  at  the  time  serving  on  the 
staff  of  General  Canby,  and  happening  to  visit  Morganza  on 
the  day  following  this  great  waste  of  ammunition,  and  being 
informed  of  the  facts  by  Captain  Marlin,  Colonel  Chrysler,  and 
other  white  officers,  did  himself  the  pleasure  of  writing  a  report 
thereof  to  the  Commanding  General,  who  without  any  further 
inquiry  ordered  the  "  Hindoo  "  to  Washington  under  arrest. 
The  Ordnance  Officer  estimated  the  value  of  the  ammunition 
expended  in  that  sham  battle,  intended  to  redound  to  the  glory 
of  the  "  Hindoo  "  General  and  his  "  Corps  de  Afrique,"  to  be 
$30,OOJ.  And  such  was  the  end  of  the  Know  Nothing  candi- 
date for  Governor  of  New  York.  In  that  memorable  Know 
Nothing  campaign  of  '55,  Los  Angeles  stood  by  the  Democratic 
/colors,  and  elected  my  gallant  Ranger  comrade,  Don  David  W. 
(Alexander,  Sheriff  of  the  county,  and  sent  John  G.  Downey  as 
representative  to  the  Legislature.  This  was  the  ex-Governor's 
first  move  on  the  political  chess-board.  Aleck  Bell  was  the 
luckiest  man  of  the  day,  and  this  is  the  way  his  good  luck 
cropped  out : 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  375 

There  were  two  Alexander  Bells  in  Los  Angeles,  both  cap- 
tains, one  having  served  under  Taylor  in  Mexico  and  the  other 
having  served  under  Stockton  and  Kearney  in  California.  The 
latter  was  a  wealthy,  most  popular  and  estimable  citizen  of  Los 
Angeles,  and  the  former  was  a  first-class  adventurer  and  noted 
russler.  Colonel  Butts,  of  bear  fighting  fame,  was  the  Know- 
Nothing  delegate  from  Los  Angeles  to  the  State  convention 
and  suggested  Alexander  the  rich,  as  a  nominee  on  the  State 
ticket  for  State  Prison  Director,  an  office  with  a  $3,500  annual 
salary  thereto  attached  and  with  perquisites  of  many  more 
thousands  thereto  belonging.  When  the  State  ticket  was 
announced  Alexander  the  russler  swore  he  was  the  man,  inter- 
viewed Butts,  promised  him  the  prison  beef  contract  if  he'd 
keep  mum,  was  the  first  to  take  the  stand  at  the  ratification 
meeting,  accept  the  nomination  and  pledge  his  influence  to 
the  ticket.  He  next  went  to  his  rich  namesake,  begged  his 
acquiesence,  and,  notwithstanding  several  indignation  meetings, 
Alexander,  the  russler,  brazened  the  thing  through,  claimed  his 
election,  got  his  certificate,  took  his  seat  as  President  of  the 
Board,  swamped  the  whole  directory  in  less  than  three  months 
by  incurring  immense  debts  for  reckless  prison  expenditures 
which  brought  down  the  wrath  of  the  Legislature,  and  the 
Board  was  abolished. 

When  Aleck  claimed  the  nomination  his  worldly  wealth 
would  not  have  sold,  including  his  wardrobe,  for  $20.  When 
legislated  out  of  office  he  had  good  clothes,  not  a  dollar  in 
money,  but  had  incurred  personal  debts  of  about  $20,000. 
This  was  Aleck's  misfortune,  he  was  generally  flat  broke  and 
was  the  best  borrower  I  ever  knew.  He  borrowed  from  every- 
body and  paid  nobody.  H*J  never  knew  a  man  in  California 
from  whom  he  didn't  borrow  money  in  sums  ranging  from  one 
to  a  thousand  dollars.  His  manner  was  such  that  no  one  could 
refuse  him.  He  was  hale  fellow  well  met  with  all  classes  of 
people  from  the  highest  in  position  to  the  veriest  vagabond. 


376  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

When  Aleck  got  into  this  first-class  position  some  of  his 
friends  in  San  Francisco  advised  him  to  go  through  the  insol- 
vent court,  get  relieved  of  his  debts  and  make  a  new  start  and 
a  provision  for  his  family.  This  he  indignantly  refused,  main- 
taining that  he  intended  to  pay  his  debts. 

"  How  much  do  you  think  you  owe,  Aleck  ?  "  queried  one  of 
his  friends.  "  Do  you  mean  in  California  ? "  said  Aleck. 
"  Yes,  in  California,"  was  the  answer.  "  Well,"  said  Aleck, 
"  I  don't  think  I  owe  over  $2,000,000." 

Now  when  Aleck  took  command  at  San  Quintin,  he  found 
that  among  the  ragged  rascals  there  confined  every  fifth  man 
was  an  old  friend,  each  of  whom  claimed  an  indebtedness  for 
small  loans  made  when  times  were  flush  with  them.  Some  had 
known  him  in  Texas,  some  in  the  army  in  Mexico,  others  had 
followed  him  to  Equador,  and  had  worked  for  him  at  Panama. 
He  found  Los  Angeles  friends,  San  Francisco  friends,  friends 
from  Stockton,  from  Sonora,  Mokelumne  Hill,  Santa  Barbara, 
and  friends  and  kinsmen  of  his  Sonorefia  wife. 

Aleck  was  the  most  open-handed,  whole-souled,  generous  and 
liberal  of  men,  and  his  heart  opened  and  yearned  toward  these 
former  friends,  now  in  prison  rags  and  half-starved,  and  he  hied 
him  to  San  Francisco,  and  bought  the  best  of  blankets,  under- 
wear, boots,  hats,  black  doeskin  pants,  red  shirts  and  warm 
coats  for  his  family  of  500  convicts,  two  suits  each  ;  had  the 
prison  renovated  from  floor  to  roof,  the  convicts  shaved,  shorn, 
scrubbed,  and  made  comfortable,  and  had  the  prison  larder 
stocked,  and  the  table  supplied  in  such  style  as  would  have 
bankrupted  a  second-rate  hotel ;  cigars  and  tobacco  were  fur- 
nished, and  forlorn  indeed  was  the  poor  convict  whose  throat 
got  cobwebed  for  the  lack  of  whisky.  Alas  for  the  poor  devils 
at  San  Quintin,  Aleck  so  ran  the  thing  in  the  ground,  that  in 
less  than  a  month  a  Committee  of  the  Legislature  investigated 
the  prison  management,  and  on  their  report,  during  the  third 
month,  as  before  stated,  the  directory  was  wound  up. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  377 

Another  misfortune  befel  him.  After  his  election,  in  Sep- 
tember, Aleck  took  up  his  residence  in  the  Bay  City,  and  as  a 
fact  he  was  more  widely  known  than  any  man  in  the  State, 
and  was  besieged  every  day  for  a  position  at  the  prison,  when 
he  went  into  office  on  the  1st  of  January,  and  letters  came  from 
all  quarters  to  the  same  effect,  all  of  whom  Aleck  promised, 
and  from  all  of  whom  he  got  a  small  loan  to  help  him  along 
till  he  went  in.  So  when  Aleck  went  over  to  take  charge  of 
the  prison  there  was  such  a  gathering  of  the  clans  as  was  never 
known  on  that  side  of  the  bay.  Offices  were  multiplied. 
The  guards  were  doubled,  and  sinecures  created.  Still  not  one 
in  five  could  be  provided  for,  but  thev  were  all  invited  to  hansr 

A  /  v  O 

up  their  hats,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  until  something  could 
be  done  for  them,  which  caused  some  of  the  Committee  to 
facetiously  designate  our  State  Prison  as  the  "Loafers'  Asylum." 
This  now  reminds  me  of  a  story.  Old  R.  had  a  farm  at  El 
Monte  which  he  sold  at  a  sacrifice,  and  went  to  San  Francisco 
to  get  a  fat  prison  contract,  Aleck  being  a  great  friend  of  his. 
Now  it  happened  that  Albert  H.  Clark  and  myself  were  room- 
ing together  at  Madame  Show's  on  Dupont  street,  adjoining  St. 
Mary's  cathedral,  and  one  cold,  wet  evening  in  December  I  was 
reclining  on  a  sofa  and  Clark  was  seated  by  the  coal  fire 
smoking.  There  was  no  light  except  that  given  by  the  coal 
fire.  Old  R.  came  in,  took  a  seat,  and  after  some  preliminary 
conversation  requested  a  loan  until  the  Los  Angeles  steamer 
returned,  saying  he  had  sent  to  his  wife  for  money. 

"Why,"  said  Clark,  "R.,  I  was  thinking  about  hunting 
you  up  for  a  loan,  hearing  that  you  had  sold  your  ranch;  you 
certainly  didn't  come  up  here  without  a  supply  of  coin." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  R.,  "I  got  here  with  about  $600,  and 
went  up  to  Sacramento  with  Aleck  Bell  and  Bob  Haley  to  fix 
up  those  political  appointments,  and  lent  them  my  money  and 
they  came  away  and  left  me,  and  I  don't  know  how  I  could 
have  got  back  had  I  not  met  a  man  who  knew  me  and  paid  my 


378  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

fare  down.     The  truth  is,  Clark,  I  haven't  eaten  a  morsel  all 
day." 

"What!  is  that  all?"  said  Clark;  "you  a  politician  and 
complain  about  going  without  eating  for  a  day!  I  sometimes  go 
a  week  without  eating.  I  went  to  Sacramento  pome  time  ago 
and  was  gone  ten  days  and  didn't  eat  a  morsel  during  my  whole 
absence.  My  friend,  starting  in  as  a  politician,  take  my  advice 
and  train  your  stomach." 

I  could  stand  this  no  longer.  Old  li.  was  one  of  the  best  of 
fellows,  and  I  stopped  Clark's  cruel  joking  and  we  took  our 
mutual  friend  in  and  shared  our  comforts  with  him. 

When  Aleck  went  into  office  old  R.  was  on  hand,  but  failed 
to  get  a  contract,  and  concluded  to  content  himself  with  a 
hundred  dollars  a  month  and  found,  as  a  guardsman,  but 
there  were  about  five  hundred  ahead  of  him,  and  he  for  a  time 
became  a  pensioner  on  the  establishment  until  it  happened  that 
Texas  Jack,  a  most  eminent  horse  thief,  who  boasted  of  never 
having  stolen  less  than  twenty  horses  at  one  time,  and  some- 
times a  thousand,  and  was  withal  an  old  friend  of  Aleck's — a 
Texas  friend.  Jack  was  a  convict,  in  for  ten  years,  and  was 
master  of  the  equine  establishment  at  San  Quintin,  that  is  to 
say  he  was  chief  hostler,  and  presuming  on  his  old  friendship 
with  Aleck,  and  anticipating  an  easier  place,  resigned,  and  old 
R.  was  appointed  to  this  honorable  position,  and  reaped  the 
reward  of  his  political  fidelity  and  with  his  $100  a  month  as 
successor  to  the  renowned  Jack,  pined  not  after  his  Monte 
farm,  sold  for  less  than  half  its  value,  and  his  $600  invested  in 
politics  through  the  medium  of  Aleck  Bell  and  Bob  Haley. 

In  the  fall  of  1855,  James  King  of  William  founded  the 
Bulletin,  which  fell  upon  San  Francisco  like  a  roaring  lion, 
evidently  intent  on  reforming  public  morals,  or  wiping  out  the 
general  public,  for  be  it  known,  modern  reader,  that,  at  that 
time  San  Francisco  was  not  heavy  on  morals.  All  of  the 
contemporaneous  publications  took  a  tilt  at  the  audacious 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  379 

innovator,  and  they  all  in  detail  got  their  lances  shivered  in 
the  encounter,  for  was  not  the  virtuous  reformer  encased  in  the 
armor  of  purity,  and  armed  with  the  sword  of  morality  ?  The 
Alta  pitched  into  him,  and  was  sent  to  grass.  The  Herald 
was  "knocked  out  of  time,"  and  the  Daily  American  (of 
which  Aleck  Bell  was  the  proprietor  during  its  short  life,  and 
Edward  Pollock  was  editor,  while  the  author  occupied  the  more 
humble  office  of  local  scribe),  stripped  itself  to  the  "  buff,"  im- 
bibed a  goodly  supply  of  "  Dutch  courage,"  and  entered  the 
arena,  determined  to  maul  the  mug  of  this  champion  of  the  edi- 
torial prize  ring.  James  King  of  William  was  a  broken  banker, 
and  the  American  called  him  a  "ruined  Shylock,"  a  "morbid 
money  changer,"  "  honest  lago,"  and  other  such  pet  names. 
Pollock  had  too  much  editorial  discretion  to  write  such  stuff. 
The  closing  editorial  was  written  by  the  distinguished  proprie- 
tor himself,  under  the  inspiration  of  at  least  one  hundred 
"cocktails"  and  undiluted  "straights."  It  transpired  that 
when  King  was  on  the  Shylock  lay-out,.  Aleck  had  deposited 
his  I.O.U.  behind  King's  counter  for  a  small  pecuniary  accom- 
modation, for  which  he  was  to  pay  the  usual  ten  per  cent, 
monthly  interest.  Now  it  came  to  pass  that  the  American 
went  for  the  Bulletin's  blood  in  the  morning,  anticipating  that 
King  would  "counter"  in  the  evening.  Not  so,  however;  the 
Bulletin  didn't  say  a  single  word  in  reply,  but  at  about  ten 
o'clock  on  the  same  day  one  of  Sheriff  Dave  Scannell's  deputies 
came  around  and  closed  up  the  pugilistic  American,  on  a  writ 
of  attachment  at  the  suit  of  the  "  Shylock "  King,  who 
demanded  his  money  and  his  accumulated  pounds  of  flesh.  So 
the  great  American  gun  was  most  effectually  spiked. 

Early  in  '56,  the  Sunday  Times  made  its  appearance  in  the 
arena  of  journalistic  pugilism.  Supervisor  James  P.  Casey  was 
its  editor,  and  gave  the  Bulletin  such  a  stunning  blow,  square 
from  the  shoulder,  as  caused  the  claret  to  freely  flow.  The 
Bulletin  replied  by  asserting  the  truth  to  be  that  the  Times1 


380  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

editor  was  an  ex  Sing-Sing  convict,  which  so  riled  Casey  that 
he  hied  him  hurriedly  in  quest  of  the  great  oracle  McGowan, 
and  is  supposed  to  have  communed  with  him  on  the  subject 
matter  of  insult,  "borrowed  Ned's  Derringer,  so  thought  at  the 
time,  and  on  the  same  day  killed  the  king  of  San  Francisco 
editors.  To  understand  this  matter  more  fully  the  reader  must 
be  informed  that  no  one  could  be  killed  in  San  Francisco  with- 
out McGowan's  consent,  and  as  Casey  killed  King,  as  was 
freely  maintained,  with  Ned's  pistol,  it  was  quite  easy  to  infer 
that  Ned  consented  thereto,  and  the  Vigilance  Committee  hung 
Casey  for  murder,  held  McGowan  to  be  an  accessory  before  the 
fact,  and  he  was  forced  to  flee  the  wrath  of  the  Committee,  and 
take  refuge  in  the  mountain  fastnesses  of  the  southern  counties. 

The  author  of  these  truthful  reminiscenses,  has  frequently 
called  himself  the  "  truthful  historian,"  and  does  not  assert  as 
a  fact  that  Casey  and  McGowan  conspired  to  kill  James  King 
of  William,  or  that  Casey  killed  King  with  Ned's  pistol,  or 
that  the  ex- Judge  had  anything  to  do  with  or  knowledge  of  the 
intended  assassination.  The  author  is  unwilling  to  infer  such 
to  be  the  case.  But  as  McGowan  was  afterward  indicted,  tried 
and  acquitted  of  the  charge  we  must  all  agree  that  he  was  inno- 
cent thereof. 

Notwithstanding  the  9,000  members  of  the  great  San  Fran- 
cisco Vigilance  Committee  in  their  excess  of  zeal,  believed 
McGowan  to  be  guilty,  sought  for  but  didn't  find  him, 
and  after  having  searched  half  the  houses  in  San  Francisco 
from  garret  to  cellar,  beat  the  bush  in  and  around  the  sand 
hills,  it  was  ascertained  that  the  flying  fugitive  had  reached 
Santa  Barbara.  A  large  force  followed  and  would,  but  for  the 
shrewdness  and  honesty  of  Jack  Powers,  have  captured  him. 
I  repeat,  honesty  of  Jack  Powers.  Jack  saved  Ned  McGowan. 
The  great  Vigilance  Committee  offered  $20,000  for  his  arrest 
and  Jack  Powers  could  have  pocketed  that  sum  by  betraying 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


381 


his  guest  into  their  hands.  Does  not  this  speak  volumes  for 
the  honesty  and  manhood  of  that  unfortunate  and  much 
abused  character. 


382  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Another  Revolution— Juan  Flores  Raises  the  Standard  of  Revolt — Captures 
San  Juan  Capistrano — Levies  Forced  Loans — Murders  a  Merchant — 
Massacre  of  the  Sheriff's  Party — A  Vendetta — General  Pico  takes  the 
Field  — T.  D.  Mott  Commands  an  Expedition  to  San  Buenaventura — 
The  Rebellion  Squelched — Rebels  Hung — Bloody  Trophies — Stuttering 
Aleck. 


MAY  '55,  Myon  Norton,  then  Judge  of  the  Court  of 
Sessions  of  Los  Angeles  County,  sent  three  of  our  gentle 
angels  into  a  forced  retirement  at  hard  labor  and  harder 
fare  in  our  State  Asylum  for  thieves  and  other  malefactors. 
The  first  of  this  trio  was  a  red-headed  gringo  named  Welch. 
Juan  Gonzales,  who  had  the  year  previous  acted  the  part  of 
hangman  in  the  execution  of  the  lamented  Dave  Brown  was 
the  second,  and  Juan  Flores  was  the  third,  and  apparently  the 
most  insignificant,  but,  as  the  sequel  will  show,  the  most 
important  personage  who  ever  represented  our  angel  popula- 
tion in  the  halls  of  State  at  San  Quiritin.  All  three  were 
sent  up  for  the  unromantic  crime  of  horse  stealing.  Juan 
Flores  was  a  dark  complexioned  fellow  of  medium  height 
slim,  lithe  and  graceful,  a  most  beautiful  figure  in  the  fan- 
dango or  on  horseback,  and  about  twenty-two  years  old. 
There  was  nothing  peculiar  about  Juan  except  his  tiger-like 
walk — always  seeming  to  be  in  the  very  act  of  springing  upon 
his  prey.  His  eyes,  neither  black,  grey,  nor  blue,  greatly  resem- 
bling those  of  the  owl — always  moving,  watchful  and  wary, 
and  the  most  cruel  and  vindictive-looking  eyes  that  were  ever 
set  in  human  head.  These  gentlemen  from  Los  Angeles  not 
relishing  the  boiled  sturgeon  and  other  fish  dirt  with  which  the 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  383 

lessees  of  the  prison  fed  their  guests,  and  the  brick  yard  having 
no  charms  for  them,  after  a  few  months  of  service,  with  a 
hundred  or  two  others  made  a  break  for  liberty,  were  recaptured 
and  subjected  to  a  prison  discipline  and  surveillance  that  ren- 
dered any  future  escape  a  moral  impossibility.  However,  those 
ever  watchful  eyes  of  Juan  only  waited  for  half  a  chance 
to  make  another  effort,  and  in  October  '56  an  opportunity 
was  seized  which  to  Juan  proved  successful,  though  many 
of  -  his  comrades  were  slaughtered,  more  of  them  retaken, 
while  a  few  of  the  more  determined  escaped.  A  few  days 
only,  before  the  most  desperate  of  all  breaks  from  San 
Quintin  was  made,  a  notorious  desperado  from  Shasta  was 
lodged  within  the  walls  of  this  celebrated  prison  whose 
name,  if  known  to  the  prison  officers,  was  never  used  to 
designate  him,  but,  calling  himself  the  "  Red  Horse,"  was  so 
known  to  his  fellows.  Jim  Webster,  however,  was  his  true 
name.  A  brig  was  loading  with  brick  at  the  prison  wharf. 
The  gangs  of  convicts  who  were  engaged  in  the  work,  on  reach- 
ing the  brickyard  outside  the  walls  early  one  morning,  were 
raised  to  fury  by  the  startling  cry  of,  "  Who  dare  follow  the 
Red  Horse  ?  Onward,  boys,  for  the  brig  and  liberty  ! "  Then 
was  heard  in  response  a  terrific  yell,  the  rattling  of  chains  and 
firing  of  guns,  as  the  crowd  of  chained  demons  rushed  down 
the  wharf  and  on  board  the  brig.  The  guard,  who  were  at 
hand,  opened  fire  on  them  with  their  rifles  and  revolvers,  and 
several  were  killed.  Juan  Flores  was  the  first  to  follow  the 
"  Red  Horse,"  and  his  wild  carajo  urged  his  countrymen  on  to 
death  or  liberty.  The  melee  was  awful.  The  captain  and 
crew  of  the  brig  were  driven  below,  and  the  guards  on  board 
disarmed  and  tumbled  overboard.  Overlooking  the  wharf  was 
a  promontory,  on  which  was  stationed  a  battery  of  one  six- 
pounder  field-piece  and  one  twelve-pounder  howitzer.  The 
convicts,  on  boarding  the  brig,  cast  off  her  moorings,  swung 
her  to  the  outgoing  tide,  when  lo  !  a  shower  of  cannister  was 


384  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

poured  into  them  at  a  distance  less  than  seventy  yards,  and  the 
riflemen  on  the  wharf  shot  them  down  like  dogs. 

In  spite  of  all  this  slaughter  the  "Red  Horse,"  commanding 
those  who  spoke  English,  and  Juan,  yelling  his  orders  in  the 
shrill  language  of  Mexico,  succeeded  in  setting  the  sails  of  the 
brig,  and  the  wind  being  favorable,  sailed  beyond  the  reach  of 
grape  cannister  and  rifle  ball,  and  those  who  were  not  killed,  or 
who  had  not  jumped  overboard  and  were  drowned,  or  who 
reached  the  wharf  and  surrendered,  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
bay  to  Contra  Costa  and  escaped,  Juan  Flores  and  Pancho 
Daniel  being  of  the  number.  A  couple  of  weeks  later  Juan 
and  Pancho  were  at  San  Luis  Obispo  with  a  party  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  followers  and  made  known  their  intent  to  go  to  Los 
Angeles,  raise  the  standard  of  revolt  and  rid  the  country 
of  the  hated  gringos.  At  San  Luis  they  met  one  Andres 
Fontes,  who  had  served  out  a  two  years'  term  in  the  peniten- 
tiary, and  who  joined  them  on  condition  that  they  would  help 
him  to  murder  Jim  Barton,  Sheriff  of  Los  Angeles  County, 
whom  Andres  claimed  had  unjustly  accused  and  sent  him  to 
the  penitentiary. 

This  Andres  Fontes  was  a  native  California  boy  and 
when  sent  to  the  penitentiary  was  only  about  eighteen 
years  old.  When  taken  from  the  Los  Angeles  jail  he 
threatened  the  Sheriff  with  future  assassination.  There  had 
been  a  difficulty  between  Andres  and  Barton  about  to  this 
effect :  Our  angel  Sheriff  was  an  unmarried  man  and  lived  in 
illicit  intercourse  with  an  Indian  woman,  who,  for  some  alleged 
ill  treatment,  left  him  and  went  to  a  family  residing  on  the 
east  side  of  the  river.  Barton  went  for  her  and  on  her  refusal 
to  go  with  him  violently  seized  and  was  dragging  her  away, 
when  Andres  happened  to  be  riding  along  the  road,  interposed 
in  favor  of  the  woman,  and  Barton  was  constrained  to  desist. 
One  or  two  days  thereafter  Andres,  at  the  instance  of  the 
Sheriff,  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of  felony  and  was  convicted 


REMINISCENCES    Of1    A    RANGER.  385 

and  sent  to  San  Quintin,  and  hence  his  desire  to  murder  Sheriff 
Barton,  and  the  cause  that  induced  him  to  join  the  embryo 
revolution  under  Juan  Flores. 

In  due  course  of  time  the  parcy,  with  augmented  numbers, 
arrived  at  Los  Angeles,  and  dispersing  around  town,  had 
a  good  time  of  it  for  a  few  days,  and  then,  numbering  fifty, 
departed  for  San  Juan  Capistrano,  sixty  miles  toward  San 
Diego.  Arriving  there,  Juan  raised  the  standard  of  revolt, 
dispatched  couriers  to  notify  the  rancheros  and  invite  them  to 
his  standard.  Judging  the  temper  of  his  countrymen  by  his 
own.  he  felt  sure  of  a  general  uprising.  Never  was  there  a 
more  fatal  mistake.  The  native  Californians,  it  is  true,  raised, 
not  to  assist  in  a  hair-brained  insurrection,  but  to  put  it  down, 
and  to  punish  the  insurgents. 

The  first  thing  Juan  did  after  dispatching  his  couriers  was  to 
raise  the  sinews  of  war.  He  first  called  on  Juan  Forster,  who 
shelled  out.  Then  he  went  from  one  gringo  to  another,  until  a 
German  was  found  who  refused  to  pay.  He  was,  in  conformity 
with  the  rules  of  revolution,  taken  to  the  plaza  and  shot. 
Juan  then  dispatched  a  false  messenger  to  inform  Sheriff 
Barton  of  the  disturbance,  and  to  mislead  him,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  led  into  a  trap  and  murdered,  and  thus  the  compact 
with-  Fontes  would  be  made  good.  On  the  reception  of  the 
information  falsely  given  as  to  the  disturbance,  Barton  called 
for  a  few  volunteers  to  go  with  him  to  San  Juan.  Cyrus  Lyon 
inquired  as  to  the  number  of  men  he  proposed  taking,  and  on 
being  informed  that  ten  would  be  enough,  refused  to  go.  Cy 
Lyon  was  one  of  our  most  efficient  Rangers,  and  was  better 
informed  as  to  the  magnitude  of  the  danger  than  any  other 
person,  and  told  Barton  that  if  he  went  with  a  less  number 
than  fifty  or  sixty  rnen,  it  would  be  at  the  peril  of  being  cut  off 
and  slaughtered.  Accompanied  by  only  twelve  men,  Barton 
set  out  for  the  scene  of  disturbance,  and  arrived  at  San  Joaquin 

Ranch,  within  eighteen  miles  of  San  Juan.     Here  Don  Jose 
25 


386  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Sepulveda  warned  him  of  his  danger,  and  urged  him  to  go  no 
farther,  but  to  send  back  to  Los  Angeles  for  more  men,  and 
await  their  coming.  An  old  Frenchman,  the  ranch  cook, 
assured  Barton  that  a  trap  was  set  for  him  ;  also  that  a  party 
of  the  robbers,  double  the  number  of  the  Sheriffs  party,  had 
just  been  at  the  ranch. 

With  all  these  admonitions  of  danger  the  Sheriff  and  his 
little  party  took  up  their  line  of  march  for  San  Juan.  They 
had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  a  man  rode  out  of  the 
tail  mustard  fired  at  them  and  galloped  away  up  the  road, 
pursued  helter-skelter  by  the  gringos  who  one  at  a  time  ran 
into  an  ambuscade  and  were  shot  down. 

It  so  happened  that  Frank  Alexander  and  Calvin  Hardy 
were  some  little  distance  behind  the  main  body,  and  as  they 
galloped  up  saw  the  situation  in  time  ,  wheeled  their  horses  in 
the  road  and  fled  in  the  direction  of  Los  Angeles,  being  pursued 
by  members  of  the  gang  all  the  way  to  the  Santa  Ana  River. 
With  the  exception  of  those  two  the  party  was  massacred. 
Barton  fired  his  double-barrelled  gun  without  effect,  fell 
from  his  horse  and  was  riddled  with  bullets  as  he  lay  on  the 
ground,  still,  however,  discharging  the  six  shots  from  his 
revolver  without  effect.  In  fact  not  a  man  of  the  insurgent 
band  was  either  killed  or  wounded.  When  Barton  had  fired 
his  last  shot,  Andres  Fontes  approached,  and  deliberately 
aiming,  shot  him  through  the  head,  as  he  aimed,  Barton  raised 
himself  on  one  elbow,  hurled  his  empty  revolver  at  the  assassin, 
and  was  at  the  same  moment  shot  dead.  Thus  ended  the  mas- 
sacre. Taking  the  arms,  equipments  and  horses  of  the  mur- 
dered gringos,  the  murderers  returned  to  San  Juan  in  triumph. 
When  the  news  reached  Los  Angeles,  it  produced  a  most 
profound  sensation.  Gringos  held  their  breath  in  the  intensity 
of  their  alarm.  Brave  men  looked  at  each  other  in  blank 
terror  and  asked,  "  Where  will  this  end  ? "  There  was  some 
fear  as  to  how  the  native  Californians,  the  Spaniards,  would  act 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  387 

in  the  matter.  This  was  soon  settled  by  General  Andres  Pico 
and  Don  Tomas  Sanchez  calling  for  volunteers  to  put  down 
the  disturbance  and  punish  the  assassins.  In  a  day  they  had  a 
large  force  and  were  ready  to  take  the  field.  In  the  meantime 
the  gringos  coming  in  from  all  parts  of  the  country  organized 
into  companies,  and  the  Board  of  Supervisors  of  the  County 
having  appointed  Jim  Thompson  to  the  vacant  office  of  Sheriff, 
he  assuming  command,  the  little  army  took  up  its  line  of 
march  to  the  seat  of  war.  On  the  advance  nearing  San  Juan, 
the  insurgents,  in  good  order,  and  with  pack  mules  carrying 
supplies,  retired  to  the  mountains  and  were  not  found  till  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  following,  when,  through  the  aid  of  Don 
Jose  Sepulveda,  they  were  tracked  to  an  impregnable  position 
in  the  Santiago  cafion. 

The  insurgents  were  insolent  and  defiant.  Some  firing  and 
skirmishing  took  place  without  effect,  when  it  was  determined 
to  surround,  settle  down  and  besiege  the  position,  which  before 
nightfall  was  successfully  done.  Flores  now  seeing  that  the 
tables  were  turned,  and  that  he  himself  had  fallen  into  a  trap, 
resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  escaping  therefrom,  and  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  night  made  the  attempt,  with  only  partial  success, 
himself  and  his  Lieutenant  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
gringos,  and  some  fifteen  or  twenty  of  his  men  being  captured 
by  the  vigilant  Pico.  The  manner  in  which  Flores  and  Pancho 
Daniel  were  captured  was,  in  the  darkness  they  rode  over  a 
precipice,  and  rolled  and  tumbled  down,  down,  down,  with  a 
great  clatter,  and  finally  landed  in  a  gringo  camp  at  the  bot- 
tom. The  rest  of  the  band  escap?d,  for  the  time.  The  capture 
of  the  two  leaders  produced  great  joy  and  satisfaction,  and  the 
company  from  El  Monte  claimed  the  right  to  guard  the  prison- 
ers, which  they  were  permitted  to  do.  The  captive  Captain 
and  his  Lieutenant  were  secured  by  tying  their  arms  behind 
their  backs,  and  disposing  of  them  in  the  midst  of  sleeping 
Monte  gringos,  who,  after  re-posting  their  sentries,  resigned 


388  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

themselves  to  slumber.  Morning  came,  and  with  it  an  intense 
excitement.  The  two  birds  had  flown.  The  Captain,  his 
Lieutenant,  and  two  of  the  best  horses  belonging  to  the  now 
crestfallen  Monte  gringos,  were  missing.  When  they  had 
fallen  into  camp,  as  it  were,  from  the  skies,  the  surprise  was 
great,  but  now  it  was  greater,  and  failing  to  find  an  aperture 
in  the  earth  through  which  they  might  have  continued  their 
downward  descent,  and  not  finding  the  two  horses  missing,  as 
aforesaid,  the  Monte  gringos  concluded  that  their  two  captives 
had  in  some  mysterious  manner  outwitted  them,  and  vamosed 
the  ranch.  (It  was  afterwards  ascertained  that  the  two  prison- 
ers had  worked  their  backs  together,  and  one  had  untied  the 
other,  and  they  thus  escaped.) 

Dispositions  were  now  made  for  a  vindictive  pursuit. 
Thomas  D.  Mott,  a  handsome,  quiet  young  fellow,  who  had  up 
to  this  time  stood  modestly  in  the  background,  was  in  com- 
mand of  one  of  the  companies,  and  was  ordered  to  proceed  in 
all  haste  to  San  Buenaventura,  raise  the  people,  watch 
the  roads,  and  make  sure  that  none  escaped  in  that  direc- 
tion. Others  were  dispatched  in  the  direction  of  San  Diego, 
the  Cajon  and  San  Gorgonio  passes  as  well  as  the  San  Fer- 
nando Pass.  Captain  Stanley  who  had  succeeded  Captain 
Hope,  was  in  the  saddle  with  his  Hangers,  and  the  military  at 
Jurupa  and  Tejon  were  notified.  These  dispositions  made  to 
guard  the  passes,  and  to  reach  them  required  hard  riding  and 
fatigue,  it  being  from  the  locus  in  quo  to  San  Buenaventura 
full  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles,  to  San  Fernando  seventy-five 
miles,  and  to  other  places  not  so  far,  and  the  main  body  was 
being  disposed  to  scour  the  mountains  and  plains.  Some 
prying  gringo  eyes  now  discovered  that  notwithstanding  Gene- 
ral Pico  with  his  followers  were  present,  the  prisoners  taken  by 
him  on  the  previous  night  were  not  visible,  and  upon  inquiry 
Don  Andres  said  he  had  "confessed"  them.  Some  doubt  being 
expressed  as  to  how  they  might  have  been  disposed  of,  Don 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  389 

Andres  spoke  to  a  weather-beaten,  bronzed  hero  who  •  galloped 
off  up  the  canon,  and  soon  returned  wearing  pendant  from  his 
burly  neck,  shot-pouch  fashion,  a  most  beautiful  necklace  made 
of  human  ears  strung  on  a  raw-hide  string.  These  trophies 
being  conclusive  evidence  that  if  the  former  owners  thereof  had 
not  been  "confessed,"  then  certainly  they  had  been  otherwise 
piously  disposed  of.  This  being  satisfactory,  operations  were 
resumed,  and  scouring  the  country  commenced.  Tom  Mott 
rode  rapidly  to  San  Buenaventura  and  arrived  just  in  time  to 
fall  in  with  a  party  of  the  insurgents,  and  the  first  notice  given 
the  good  people  of  the  quiet  Mission  village  was  the  rattle 
of  revolvers  as  the  two  hostile  parties  at  early  dawn  met  in 
the  street.  The  robbers  fled  to  a  vineyard;  some  were  shot 
down  and  others  captured,  and  by  the  time  the  citizens  were 
astir  the  affair  was  over.  Espinosa,  one  of  the  leaders,  was 
captured.  Informing  the  citizens  of  the  gravity  of  the  situa- 
tion, Mott  delivered  his  prisoners  to  them  for  safe  keeping,  and 
hurried  back  to  the  Simi  Pass  to  take  position  and  endeavor  to 
intercept  others,  and  to  dispatch  a  courier  to  Captain  Thomp- 
son. By  this  time,  however,  it  had  been  ascertained  that  the 
whole  force  of  the  insurgents,  in  broken  bands,  were  working 
their  way  north,  and  most  fortunately  Tom  Mott  had  got  ahead 
of  all  of  them. 

This  was  the  strangest  circumstance  in  the  uprising,  that  in 
breaking  up  they  should  have  gone  north,  when  it  was  only  an 
easy  day's  ride,  for  men  hard  pressed,  from  the  Santiago  Canon 
to  the  Mexican  line  in  Lower  California.  Before  nightfall  on 
the  day  Captain  Mott  struck  the  advance  of  the  flying  bandits, 
a  large  force  guarded  the  passes  going  north.  The  San  Fer- 
nando, the  Santa  Susana,  the  Simi  and  Conejo  were  filled  with 
armed  men.  with  intervening  cordons  that  rendered  escape  in 
that  direction  next  to  impossible,  while  the  plains  and  foothills 
were  scoured  in  such  manner  that  gave  the  fugitives  no  time 
for  rest.  The  result  of  these  masterly  movements  was  that  in 


5590  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

parties  of  lives,  tens  and  twenties  the  bandits  blindly  rode  into 
the  traps  so  adroitly  set  for  them  and  were  all  captured,  includ- 
ing Juan  Flores  and  Pancho  Daniel.  Andres  Fontes  having1 
accomplished  his  purpose,  severed  his  connexion  with  the  band 
before  they  left  San  Juan,  and  with  several  of  the  horses  and 
other  spoil  taken  from  Barton  and  his  men,  hurried  away  to 
Lower  California,  and  from  him  much  information  concerning 
the  Flores  insurrection  was  thereafter  obtained.  He,  however, 
soon  met  his  fate  at  the  hands  of  the  notorious  Solomon  Pico, 
of  Lower  California  revolutionary  fame,  by  whom  he  was  shot. 
He  was  undoubtedly  the  last  of  the  Juan  Flores  gang. 

In  a  former  chapter  this  Ranger  historian  declared  his  aver- 
sion to  the  relation  of  bloody  and  horrible  incidents,  and  the 
very  great  pleasure  it  afforded  him  to  write  of  amusing  things. 
He  therefore  begs  to  be  permitted  to  drop  the  curtain  on  the 
closing  scenes  of  the  terrible  uprising  of  Juan  Flores.  An 
example  was  necessary,  and  a  bloody  example  was  made. 

Since  the  death  of  Murietta,Vulvia,  Senati  and  Vergara,  and 
the  imprisonment  of  the  monster  Moreno,  our  southern  country 
had  enjoyed  a  two  years'  immunity  from  blood  and  rapine,  and 
in  this  instance  the  country  rose  as  a  man.  Spaniard  and 
gringo  rode  stirrup  to  stirrup,  determined  to  make  such  an 
example  and  to  mete  out  such  retribution  PS  would  be  a  ter- 
rible warning  to  all  future  disturbers  of  the  peace  of  our  angel 
land.  When  the  last  man  of  the  insurgent  band  had  been 
hunted  down  and  killed  or  captured,  Tom  Mott  returned  to  San 
Buenaventura  to  get  his  prisoners,  and  found  that,  a  la  Pico, 
they  had  been  "confessed."  A  large  number  had  also  been 
"confessed"  at  San  Gabriel,  and,  in  fact,  in  other  parts  of  the 
country.  And  now  we  will  drop  the  curtain  on  this  bloody 
episode  in  our  sanguinary  history.  The  feeling  of  gratitude  on 
the  part  of  the  gringo  population  to  those  noble  heroes,  Andres 
Pico  and  Tomas  Sanchez,  was  such  that  Don  Andres  was  soon 
thereafter  appointed  Brigadier- General  of  the  National  Guard, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  391 

and  Don  Tomas  was  made  Sheriff  of  Los  Angeles  county,  and 
was  permitted  to  hold  the  office  for  near  ten  years.  Many  of 
our  citizens,  both  gringo  and  to  the  manor  born,  showed  of 
what  mettle  they  were  made.  The  veteran  Thompson  gave 
evidence  of  a  capacity  to  command  that  was  an  honor  to  "the 
school  wherein  he  learned  to  ride,"  and  proved  that  his  train- 
ing on  the  frontier  of  Texas  had  well  fitted  him  for  the  honors 
that  were  thrust  upon  him.  William  H.  Workman,  now  of 
Boyle  Plights,  then  a  mere  boy,  so  distinguished  himself  for 
daring,  dash  and  rough  riding,  as  won  the  admiration  of  the 
country.  Of  our  gallant  comrade,  Cyrus  Lyon,  the  language 
of  the  immortal  Byron  can  be  well  applied  : 

"  Of  all  our  band, 

Though  firm  of  heart  and  strong  of  hand, 
In  skirmish,  march,  or  forage,  none 
Can  less  have  said  or  more  have  done."  . 

Cyrus  Lyon,  a  twin  brother  of  Sanford,  was  born  in  Machias, 
Maine,  November  19th,  1831.  The  two  brothers  came  here  in 
1849  as  clerks  for  Alexander  &  Mellus.  Both  reside  in  Los 
Angeles  County,  prosperous  and  happy. 

During  this  terrible  excitement  every  man  and  boy  in  the 
city  was  under  arms,  the  veteran  Dr.  John  S.  Griffin  being  in 
command.  I  believe  V.  A.  Hoover  was  an  aid  to  Dr.  Griffin. 
Wallace  Wobdworth  belonged  to  Mott's  company. 

There  was  a  member  of  Mott's  company  that  deserves  more 
than  ordinary  mention.  He  was  a*  clean,  smooth  and  neatly 
dressed  fellow  named  Alexander,  universally  known  as  "stut- 
tering Aleck."  Aleck  had  been  well  brought  up,  was  of  good 
address,  polite  and  gentle  in  his  manners,  and  a  natural  born 
wit  and  humorist,  and  was  an  out-and-out  and  inveterate  gam- 
bler. By  birth  a  Mississippian  ;  the  first  we  know  of  Aleck  is 
when  General  Taylor's  army  was  encamped  at  Walnut  Springs, 
in  Mexico,  preparatory  to  its  march  on  Monterey.  One  day 
while  sunning  himself  "around  headquarters  a  Mexican  was 


392  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

brought  in,  of  whom  the  General  wished  to  make  some 
inquiries.  He  accordingly  addressed  himself  to  Aleck  and 
ordered  him  to  bring  some  one  who  could  speak  Spanish. 
Aleck  departed  and  soon  returned  with  a  Mexican,  to  whom 
General  Taylor  addressed  himself  by  saying,  "Ask  this  man 
when  he  left  Monterey." 

The  Mexican  thus  addressed  looked  mystified,  and  said,  "  No 
intiende." 

"  Do  you  understand  what  I  say  to  you,  sir  ?  "  repeated  the 
General. 

"No  intiende,  sefior,"  was  the  reply  ;  whereupon  the  General 
became  irate,  and  turning  sharply  to  Aleck,  said  : 

"  Did  I  not  order  you,  sir,  to  procure  me  a  person  who  can 
speak  the  Spanish  language  ?  '"' 

"  Wu-wu-wu-well,  G-g-gu-Gen-er-al,  I-l-I-I  br-br-brought 
you  a-a-a  nitim-mum-man,  who  can't  speak  anything  but 
Sp-sp-span-ish." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Aleck  went  away  from  the  vicinity 
of  General  Taylor's  headquarters  on  a  double  quick.  At  the 
close  of  the  war  Aleck  went  on  board  a  transport  at  Vera  Cruz 

to  go  to  New  Orleans,  and  gave  his  name  as  Alexander, 

M.D.,  and  was  summarily  inducted  into  a  state-room.  Then 
came  a  fancy  Lieutenant,  whom  the  purser  billeted  with  Dr. 
Alexander  as  room-mate  for  the  voyage.  It  so  happened  that 
the  Lieutenant  recognized  Aleck  as  an  ambulance  driver,  and 
so  reported  to  the  purser,  who  hied  himself  to  Aleck  to  know 
about  it.  "  This  officer,"  said  the  purser,  pointing  to  the 
Lieutenant,  "  says  you  are  not  an  army  surgeon  ;  that  you  are 
an  ambulance  driver."  "Army  surgeon  ? "  repeated  Aleck  ; 
"who  said  I  was  an  army  surgeon  ?  "  "  Did  you  not  give  me 

your  name,  sir,  as  Alexander,  M.D.  ?"  demanded   the 

irate  purser.  "  Oh !  certainly,  sir,"  answered  Aleck,  in  his 
inimitably  droll  and  stuttering  way  ;  "  but  in  my  case,  sir, 
M.  D.  stands  for  mule  driver."  None  but  officers  being  permit- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  393 

ted  to  enjoy  the  accommodations  of  the  cabin,  Aleck  had 
adopted  this  ruse  to  escape  the  hardships  of  the  steerage,  and 
succeeded,  the  joke  being  so  good  that  the  many  officers  on 
board  interposed  in  his  favor,  and  during  the  voyage  he  was  by 
all  designated  as  Doctor  Alexander.  Aleck  was  a  very  reckless 
gambler,  and  was  alternately  "high  up"  and  "low  down." 
During  one  of  his  periodical  downs  he  got  greatly  in  arrear  for 
board  at  the  revered  Bella  Union,  and  was  approached  delicately 
thereon  by  the  host,  Dr.  J.  B.  Winston.  In  his  droll,  stutter- 
ing way,  Aleck  turned  to  the  Doctor  and  said,  "  Doc,  let's 
compromise  this  board  bill."  "All  right,"  said  Winston ; 
"what  do  you  propose?"  "Well,  Doc,"  Aleck  continued, 
"fare's  low  to  'Frisco,  and  if  you'll  just  come  in  here  and  buy 
me  a  ticket  to  go  away  on,  I'll  call  it  square."  The  Doctor 
seriously  considered  the  proposition,  bought  Aleck  a  ticket  for 
"'Frisco,"  and  squared  accounts. 

One  time  when  steamship  opposition  had  ran  fare  down  to 
five  dollars  Aleck  went  on  board  a  steamer  at  San  Pedro  with 
only  $2.50  in  his  pocket,  hoping  that  he  might  strike  a  friend 
or  increase  his  capital  by  a  small  game  of  short  cards,  in  both 
of  which  he  was  disappointed,  and  in  the  morning  the  steamer 
lay  at  Santa  Barbara,  a  point  at  which  the  Los  Angeles  passen- 
gers were  always  called  on  to  produce  their  tickets  or  pay  their 
passage.  Aleck  was  in  a  desperate  strait  and  was  walking  the 
upper  deck,  shuffling  his  five  half-dollar  pieces  in  his  hand  and 
devising  some  way  in  which  he  might  double  it.  The  only 
persons  on  deck  besides  himself  was  a  lady  and  little  boy,  who 
were  observing  objects  on  shore.  "Mamma,"  queried  the  little 
fellow,  "  what  is  that  big  house  over  yonder  ?  "  "  That,  dear, 
is  a  church,"  replied  mamma.  "Well,  what  is  that  house 
down  this  way  with  the  big  window  in  the  end  ? "  "  That, 
dear,  is  somebody's  stable,"  said  mamma.  "Now,  mamma," 
still  queried  the  little  dear,  "what  is  that  little  bit  of  a  house 
there  with  two  little  holes  in  the  end?"  " That,"  answered 


394 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 


mamma  hesitatingly,  "is  somebody's  pigeon  house."  .  This 
was  the  first  chance  Aleck  had  found  to  double  his  capital — the 
first  thing  to  get  a  bet  on.  So  promptly  confronting  the  aston- 
ished lady.  Aleck  stuttered  out,  chinking  his  $2.50  up  and 
down:  "Madam,  would  you  like  to  bet  two  dollars  and  a 
half  that  that  is  a  pigeon  house  ? " 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  395 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  Reminiscence  of  San  Francisco — The  El  Dorado — A  Great  Gambling 
Hell — Clayt  Sinclair  and  His  High  Betting — The  Diamond  Cluster 
Pin — A  Chinese  Thief — A  Nest  of  Burglars  and  Counterfeiters — Cap- 
ture of  the  Gang — Cora  and  Richardson — The  Allies — The  Malikoff 
Retaken — The  Union. 


NE  of  the  warriors  of  antiquity  in  proffering  to  tell 
of  the  seige  of  Troy  said,  "I  will  tell  you  of  what 


I  -s^w,  'Hid  of  what  1  was."  In  writing  this  book  of 
reminiscences  the  author  has  endeavored  to  write  of  what  he 
saw  and  avoid  making  a  hero  of  himself.  But  in  the  follow- 
ing sketch  he  cannot  avoid  appearing  as  one  of  the  principal 
actors,  and  begs  the  reader's  forbearance  for  thus  doing. 

When  in  San  Francisco,  reader,  go  thou  to  that  sombre- 
looking  old  building,  at  the  corner  of  Washington  and  Kearny 
streets,  late  the  "Hail  of  Records,"  pass  its  portals,  ascend  to 
its  topmost  floor,  go  from  room  to  room,  descend  from  floor 
to  floor  until  you  reach  the  basement  and  hear  the  heavy 
rumble  of  wheels  above  you,  and  then  inquire  something  of 
the  past  history  of  the  old  house,  and  should  the  walls  answer 
you,  as  every  particular  stone  and  brick  that  go  to  form  its 
massive  walls  could,  they  would  tell  strange  stories  of  "  El 
Dorado,"  the  greatest  gambling  hell  that  the  world  ever  saw. 
Each  brick  would  tell  of  strange  characters,  of  disappointed 
fortune  seekers  who,  as  a  last  venture,  would  tempt  the  fickle 
goddess  in  the  gilded  halls  of  the  gilded  pandemonium  ;  of 
fugitives  from  justice  from  all  climes  under  the  sun,  including 
the  Jew  from  Palestine  and  the  Aztec  from  the  valley  of 


396  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Mexico;  of  discarded  lovers  who  sought  to  forget  the  dreams  of 
early  youth  in  the  flowing  bowl,  and  the  painted  harlots  who 
floated  around  in  a  blaze  of  sparkling  jems  and  a  cloud  of 
rustling  drapery,  of  ladies  of  foreign  accent,  of  former  rank  in 
the  old  world,  who  sat  behind  a  mountain  of  gold  and  tempted 
the  visitor  with  lansquinette,  or  the  former  Spanish  peasant 
girl  who  assisted  the  New  Orleans  gambler,  at  his  game  of 
rouge-et-noir;  of  the  Hidalgo  who  manipulated  his  monte  cards 
behind  a  bank  of  a,  hundred  thousand  dollars,  of  former  minis- 
ters of  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  who  sought  the  ruin  of  souls  in 
their  games  of  faro;  of  the  roulette  man,  with  his  wheel  of 
fortune  and  his  vociferous  clamors  of  "Give  us  $5  on  the 
Eagle  Bird  and  go  home  with  your  pile  in  the  morning." 

"  The  rondo  man,"  "keno,"  and  I  was  going  to  say  the  "three 
card  monte-man,"  but  let  me  say  (the  speaking  bricks,  I  mean), 
there  was  too  much  grandeur  in  the  El  Dorado  to  permit  of  so 
thieving  a  game  as  the  last  mentioned,  which  emphatically 
belongs  to  modern  times.  The  bricks  will  also  tell  you  of  the 
prosperous  merchant  arm-in-arm  with  the  professional  "  capper" 
approaching  the  green  baize-covered  table  with  intent  to  win 
enough  for  his  remittance  by  to-morrow's  steamer.  Did  he 
succeed  ?  Oh  no  !  At  first  he  won,  then  lost,  lost,  lost !  till 
all  was  gone,  and  with  his  brain  maddened  with  wine  and 
frenzied  with  despair,  he  seized  a  bag  of  $50-ingots,  or  slugs, 
brained  the  gambler  in  his  seat,  escaped  from  the  room  and 
was  never  after  heard  of.  The  thousand-tongued  bricks  will 
tell  of  thousands  of  fortunate  gold-seekers  on  their  way  to 
sweethearts,  wives  and  happy  homes,  who  passed  the  fatal 
portal  (which  should  have  borne  the  inscription  that  Dante 
saw  over  the  gatts  of  hell)  and  were  fleeced  of  their  gold,  and 
went  forth  to  join  the  great  column  of  disappointed  forty- 
niners  whose  wearied  footsteps  have  traveled  all  the  unexplored 
regions  of  the  universe  in  search  of  a  "  New  El  Dorado,"  and 
whose  fated  bones  have  whitened  on  the  deserts  of  the  great 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.  397 

interior  of  Arizona  and  of  Mexico,  or  have  mouldered  in  the 
tropical  damps  of  Central  and  South  America.  Like  the 
Wandering  Jew,  they  march,  march,  march !  There  is  an 
inward  monitor  of  discontent  that  urges  them  on  in  search  of 
the  "  New  El  Dorado."  Will  they  ever  find  it  ?  Oh,  no ! 
not  on  this  side  of  the  river. 

Of  all  that  wandering  class  who  were  tempted  into  the  "  El 
Dorado  "  by  the  fickle  goddess,  but  few  are  left.  They  reveled 
in  the  halls  of  the  gilded  king  for  a  night,  and  that  one  night 
sealed  their  doom,  and  made  them  wanderers  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth. 

Diagonally  across  from  the  ''El  Dorado"  was  Palmer,  Cook 
&  Co.'s  Bank.  It  is  of  '54  I  write.  One  night  I  went  into  the 
'"'  El  Dorado,"  and  in  passing  around  I  found  at  one  of  the 
tables  an  old  and  intimate  friend,  with  whom  I  had  explored 
the  regions  of  the  Klamath,  the  Trinity,  and  of  Scott  liiver,  in 
'50  and  '51.  My  friend,  by  name  Clayt  Sinclair,  now  a  resi- 
dent of  Little  Bock,  Arkansas,  was  engaged  in  heavy  betting 
at  monte,  was  greatly  excited,  and  had  won  heavily.  We  had 
not  met  for  two  years.  He  was  rejoiced  to  see  me,  and  ceasing 
to  bet,  and  pushing  over  his  pile  of  gold-dust  and  slugs  to  the 
dealer,  said.  "  Take  care  of  rny  money  fpr  a  minute,"  left  his 
seat,  and  taking  me  by  the  arm,  led  me  to  one  side,  and 
excitedly  exclaimed  : 

"  By  Jupiter  !  Horace,  I  have  won  $20,000,  and  am  in  a 
streak  of  luck." 

"  How  much  did  you  commence  with  ?  "  I  inquired. 

a  Five  thousand  dollars,"  said  he,  and  continued,  "  Do  you 
play  ?  " 

"No,"  said  I ;  "you  know  I  could  never  learn." 

"  Good,"  said  he  ;  "I  have  $25.000  on  that  table  in  dust, 
slugs,  and  certificates  of  deposit.  The  bank  has  $100,000,  and 
I  am  going  to  break  it  or  lose  my  $25,000.  Now,"  he  con- 
tinued, drawing  forth  and  handing  me  his  pocket-book,  "  here 


398  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

is  a  bill  of  exchange  for  $5,000.  Should  you  remain  with  me, 
don't  you  return  my  pocket-book  under  any  consideration  until 
you  see  me  on  the  steamer  to-morrow.  I  am  going  home,  and 
my  ticket  is  also  in  the  pocket-book."  After  vainly  endeavor- 
ing to  persuade  him  to  take  his  money  and  retire  with  me,  I 
promised  at  all  hazards  to  hold  on  to  his  pocket-book,  and  -he 
returned  to  his  betting. 

1  soon  seated  myself  beside  him.  We  were  both  mere  boys 
in  age  at  the  time,  and  he  went  to  betting  with  a  continual 
run  of  good  luck  until  he  had  won  over  half  the  bank's  capital, 
and  then  his  luck  began  to  change,  and  in  three  hours  he  didn't 
have  a  dollar  left.  With  the  mien  of  a  maniac  he  turned  to 
me  and  demanded  his  pocket-book,  I  didn't  have  it ;  I  had 
quietly  stepped  up  to  the  "  Old  Union,"  at  Merchant  street, 
and  placed  it  in  the  hotel  safe.  I  so  informed  him,  omitting  to 
designate  the  place  I  had  left  it. 

Clayt  was  as  wild  as  a  Comanche.  Finally  he  sobered  down 
into  a  moment  of  thought,  then  hastily  taking  a  magnificent 
sparkling  pin  from  his  bosom,  said  to  the  gambler  : 

"  I  gave  $1,000  for  this  pin  to-day  at  Joseph's,  on  Mont- 
gomery street ;  lend  me  $500  on  it." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  a  female  voice,  with  a  broken  Mexican 
accent,  from  an  adjoining  table,  and  Clayt,  without  rising, 
turned  in  his  seat  and  held  the  blazing  jewel  up  until  it  caught 
the  glare  of  the  brilliant  gaslight,  and  sent  forth  a  spray  of 
dazzling  gleams  that  nothing  but  a  pure  diamond  will  do, 
when,  in  a  twinkling,  the  pin  was  snatched  from  his  grasp,  and 
away  flew  the  form  of  a  Chinaman,  bearing  with  him  Clayt's 
last  gambling  stake,  and  I  in  hot  pursuit.  That  Chinaman 
flew  as  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  so  did  I.  Once  or  twice 
John  was  tripped  up,  but  not  caught.  Out  of  the  main  hall 
into  and  through  a  back  room,  where  a  party  were  engaged  in 
playing  a  game  of  short  cards,  I  still  ran  after  him,  with  a  hur- 
rahing crowd  at  my  heels.  John  seemed  to  know  the  way,  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGEK.  39$ 

soon  gained  a  pair  of  stairs  that  led  from  a  lunch-room  into  the 
basement.  Through  the  crowd  of  free-lunchers  I  bolted,  and 
down-stairs  we  went,  I  and  John  all  in  a  heap — the  pursuing 
mob  having  momentarily  lost  the  clue  in  the  lunch-room.  I 
thought  I  had  him,  but  in  a  moment  I  was  beset  by  a  crowd  of 
pig-tails  that  seemed  perfectly  wild  with  terror  and  excitement. 
The  thief  darted  forward  into  and  through  a  kitchen,  and  dis- 
appeared through  the  door,  uttering  a  kind  of  yowl,  which  was 
neither  a  howl  of  rage,  of  defiance,  or  of  joy,  but  seemed  more 
of  a  signal  than  anything  else.  There  must  have  been 
twenty  Chinamen  in  that  kitchen  when  I  entered,  many  of 
whom  disappeared  before  the  baffled  crowd  of  pursuers  came  in. 
I  had  fortunately  seen  the  door  open  and  shut  at  the  further 
end  of  the  kitchen,  and  was  vainly  endeavoring  to  follow,  when 
several  Chinamen  interfered  to  prevent  me,  insisting  that  the 
fugitive  Chinaman  had  doubled  on  me,  and  had  gone  out  up 
the  stairway  through  which  we  descended. 

By  this  time  the  kitchen  was  filled  by  the  crowd  from  the 
gambling  room,  with  two  or  three  policemen,  who,  learning  the 
circumstance  of  the  robbery,  commenced  searching  the  China- 
men present,  while  I  quietly  stood  guard  at  the  door,  feeling 
that  I  had  cornered  my  man.  The  Chinese  steward  informed 
the  policemen  that  he  very  well  knew  the  Chinaman  I  had  so 
rashly  pursued  down  stairs,  that  he  had  escaped  from  the 
kitchen  by  the  way  he  came  in ;  that  he  resided  in  a  house  on 
Dupont  street,  and  that  he.  the  steward,  would  conduct  the 
officers  thither  and  would  guarantee  his  immediate  capture,  at 
the  same  time  opening  the  door  of  the  store  room,  through 
which  I  had  seen  my  man  disappear.  To  my  surprise  the 
fugitive  was  not  inside.  The  room  had  neither  door  nor  win- 
dow, except  a  securely-fastened  grated  door  that  opened  oppo- 
site the  street-grating  above,  as  a  ventilator.  There  was  little 
or  nothing  in  the  room,  save  a  pile  of  sacks  of  rice  in  one 
corner.  The  steward  entered  with  a  candle  and  the  policemen 


400  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

had  their  laugh  at  me,  and  iSaid  I  was  mistaken,  that  the 
Chinaman  had  outflanked  me,  and  that  they  would  go  with  the 
steward  to  Dupont  street  and  capture  their  man.  So  the  door 
of  the  store  room  was  closed  and  the  crowd  commenced  leaving 
the  kitchen. 

I  called  one  of  the  policemen  to  me  and  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  go  to  the  police  headquarters  and  ask  Jim  McDonald 
(afterwards  Chief  of  Police)  to  come  around.  He  did  so,  and 
in  a  few  moments  McDonald  was  on  hand,  accompanied  by 
Lees  (then  without  fame).  I  stated  privately  to  them  that  the 
Chinaman  was  in  that  room  and  that  he  had  not  escaped. 
Lees  at  once  took  the  matter  in  hand  and  ordered  all  the 
Chinamen  then  present,  except  the  steward,  to  the  lock-up — 
cleared  the  kitchen  of  the  crowd  and  then  proceeded  to  investi- 
gate. It  was  then  two  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

First,  said  Lees  to  the  steward,  who  spoke  English:  "How 
many  men  have  you  employed  in  the  kitchen,  and  what  are  all 
of  these  Chinamen  doing  here  ?  " 

"Oh,"  answered  John,  "we  have  one  cook,  one  dishwasher, 
four  men  to  tend  lunch." 

"That  makes  six,"  said  Lees.  '-'What  were  all  the  others 
doing  here  ?  " 

"  They  my  cousins,"  answered  the  steward. 

We  then  re-opened  the  store  room — the  steward  greatly 
embarrassed. 

"Why  have  you  so  much  rice  and  nothing  else  ?"  queried 
Lees. 

"  Chinaman  heap  eatee  lice  ?  "  said  John,  Lees  at  the  same 
time  cutting  the  bamboo  strapping  of  a  rice  bag,  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  steward  dashed  his  candle  to  the  ground, 
bolted  through  the  door,  which  he  tried  to  close  after  him. 
McDonald  was  too  quick  for  him,  however,  and  in  a  twinkling 
they  had  the  darbies  on  him  and  he  was  properly  secured;  then 
relighting  the  candle  Lees  proceeded,  and  found  the  rice  bag  to 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  401 

be  filled  with  earth.  Then  another,  and  another,  all  filled  in 
the  same  manner. 

"By  Jove,  Mac,"  said  Lees,  "we've  got  the  biggest  thing 
out.  I  see  through  the  whole  thing.  You  take  this  fellow  to 
the  lock-up  and  return  immediately  with  every  man  you  can 
bring.  See  that  they  are  well  armed.  Myself  and  this  young 
man  will  stand  guard  until  you  return.  Are  you  armed  ?  "  said 
he  to  me. 

"No,"  said  I. 

"Well,  Mac,  give  him  your  revolver,  he  may  need  it.  Oh, 
we've  got  them.  Don't  delay,  Jim,"  said  Lees,  "hurry  back," 
and  away  went  McDonald  with  his  prisoner. 

"What  is  it?"  said  I,  mystified  at  Lees'  confident  manner. 

"Why,  it  is  this,"  he  answered:  "About  a  week  ago,  at  4 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  stopped  on  the  crossing  between  Pal- 
mer. Cook  &  Co.'s  corner  and  the  corner  opposite,  and  was 
listening  to  a  noise  I  heard  in  the  direction  of  Pacific  street. 
Everything  was  still,  and  I  distinctly  heard  picking,  as  though 
miners  were  at  work  directly  under  my  feet.  I  remained  and 
listened  until  daylight,  and  have  watched  the  thing  ever  since. 
They  have  worked  to  the  sidewalk  on  the  Kearny  street  side  of 
the  bank.  They  are  burglars  tunneling  to  the  bank  vault,  and 
we  are  now  guarding  the  mouth  of  their  tunnel.  We  have 
bagged  the  batch,  young  man.  Ah!  here  comes  Jim,"  and 
McDonald  entered  with  half  a  score  of  policemen  with  lanterns 
and  each  man  armed  with  a  pair  of  navy  sixes. 

Removing  the  pile  of  rice  bags,  sure  enough  we  were  at  the 
mouth  of  the  tunnel,  which  proved  to  be  about  two  feet  wide 
and  high  enough  to  admit  a  man's^  entering  on  his  knees 'and 
elbows.  ' 

"'Here  goes,"  said  Lees,  and  into  the  tunnel  he  went,  revolver 
in  one  hand  and  lantern  in  the  other.  Pretty  soon  we  heard 
his  voice,  a  short  struggle,  the  smothered  detonation  of  a  pistol 

shot,  and  while  breathless  with  suspense,  Lees  came  out  back- 
26 


402  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

ward,  dragging  with  him  a  wounded  Chinaman — Lees  himself 
being  badly  injured  by  a  punch  with  a  crow-bar.  The  steward 
was  then  sent  for  and  ordered  into  the  tunnel  to  bring  out  the 
miners,  with  the  admonition  that  if  he  failed,  fire  and  smoke 
would  be  used.  In  a  moment  he  returned,  followed  by  four  or 
five  as  villainous  a  looking  set  of  Mongolians  as  ever  crossed 
the  bay  to  San  Quintin. 

As  they  came  out  they  were-  ironed  and  searched,  the 
wounded  one  having  concealed — in  the  folds  of  his  pig-tail — 
Clayt's  diamond  pin.  We  had  made  a  night  of  it.  By  the 
time  the  Johns  were  safely  locked  up  we  had  no  further  use  for 
candles — it  was  broad  daylight.  But  Lees  continued  his  inves- 
tigations. Under  the  stairs,  down  which  I  had  come  all  a-heap 
with  the  Chinese  thief,  we  found  a  securely-fastened  closet  con- 
taining the  most  perfect  set  of  burglars'  tools  that  could  possi- 
bly be  imagined.  Old  policemen  said  "nothing  Christian  half- 
way came  up  to  it."  Uor  was  this  all.  We  found  a  half-dozen 
circular  saw-mills,  ingeniously  contrived  machines  used  for 
hollowing  out  fifty-dollar  ingots  and  twenty-dollar  pieces. 

In  a  minute  one  of  the  mills  would  cut  out  the  middle  of  a 
coin,  leaving  just  enough  to  hold  it  together,  when  the  hollow 
would  be  run  full  of  lead,  and  the  edge  creased  and  galvanized, 
and  the  deception  was  so  perfect  that  over  $20,000  of  the  20's 
alone  had  been  passed  on  the  banks. 

The  banks  had  now  opened,  and  the  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co. 
Bank  Managers  were  sent  for;  the  tunnel  was  examined  and 
found  to  be  neatly  timbered  overhead  and  to  reach  within 
twelve  feet  of  the  bank  vault.  Lees  gained  great  eclat,  and 
deservedly  so,  in  the  matter..  I  saved  Clayt's  diamond  cluster- 
pin,  his  ticket  and  his  $5,000  home  stake. 

By  the  time  the  excitement  was  well  over,  and  1,  with  Lees 
and  McDonald,  came  up  stairs,  we  found  poor  Clayt  looking 
dreadfully  bad  ;  hadn't  had  his  breakfast,  and  not  a  dollar  in 
his  pocket.  I  showed  him  the  pin,  introduced  him  to  McDon- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  408 

aid  and  Lees,  and  we  all  went  to  a  back  room  in  the  "Union" 
to  have  a  quiet  cock-tail,  for,  be  it  known,  gentle  reader,  not- 
withstanding I  hadn't  learned  to  gamble,  I  could  then  drink 
like  a  ward  politician.  It  was  now  noon.  The  steamer  had 
left  at  10  A.  M.  Clayt  would  have  to  lay  over  two  weeks.  He 
had  $5,000  left,  thanks  to  his  fortunate  meeting  with  myself. 
We  went  to  Garrison  and  stated  the  circumstance  to  him,  and 
he  endorsed  the  ticket  for  the  next  trip  via  Nicaragua. 

Clayt  swore  off  gambling,  but  insisted  on  my  exercising 
dominion  over  his  funds  until  he  was  safe  on  board  the  steamer, 
which  of  course  I  did,  and  when  on  board  I  handed  him  a  bill 
of  exchange  for  $4,000  (having  changed  the  $5,000  bill  for 
$4,000,  taking  out  the  $1,000  for  his  personal  expenses),  and 
retaining  the  cluster-pin,  whicli  he  insisted  I  should  have  as 
a  remembrance  of  our  adventure  at  the  "El  Dorado." 

Clayton  Sinclair,  who  was  well  connected,  reached  home  in 
safety,  married  and  settled  down,  and  ten  years  after  our 
strange  meeting  in  the  great  San  Francisco  gambling  hell,  I 
met  him  on  the  tented-field  in  the  Army  of  the  Southwest — 
both  serving  in  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Union. 

Lees  is  known  to  fame,  and  deservedly  so.  As  for  McDon- 
ald I  never  knew  what  did  become  of  him,  since  '56,  when  he 
was  Chief  of  Police  in  San  Francisco. 

The  Chinamen,  to  the  number  of  some  ten  or  a  dozen,  went 
over  the  bay. 

The  hollowed  out  coins  caused  a  grand  sensation  in  banking 
circles,  and  a  general  overhauling  of  coins.  As  before  stated, 
$20,000  in  20's  were  found,  and  to  the  Chinamen,  I  believe,  we 
owe  this  adroit  method  of  mutilating  the  coins. 

I  omitted  to  say  at  the  proper  time  that  in  the  mining  opera- 
tions the  rice  bags  were  used  to  pass  out  the  earth  from  the 
tunnel,  and  would  be  carried  away  and  disposed  of  by  the  out- 
side Chinamen. 

It    was  General    Kichardson,  United    States  -Marshal,  who 


404  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

caine  down  to  Los  Angeles  in  '53  for  the  great  Ohio  mail 
robber,  heretofore  spoken  of.  In  November,  '55,  this  same 
Richardson  was  killed  on  Montgomery  street,  San  Francisco, 
between  Clay  and  Merchant,  by  Charles  Cora,  who  in  May,  '56, 
was  hung  by  the  Vigilance  Committee,  in  company  with  Super- 
visor James  P.  Casey,  the  murderer  of  James  King  of  William. 
Cora  was  a  bred  and  born  New  Orleans  gambler.  The  General 
was  an  old  faro  dealer,  and  the  two  had  been  intimate.  Rich- 
ardson had  attained  political  position,  but  still  continued  his 
intimacy  with  his  former  gambling  friends,  and  one  night,  in 
company  with  Cora  and  others,  had  been  on  a  drinking  bout, 
had  made  the  rounds  of  the  gambling  houses  and  other  places 
of  dissipation,  and  were  leaving  the  Bank  Exchange,  when 
Richardson  conceived  that  Cora  had  given  him  some  offence. 
On  the  day'  following  the  United  States  Marshal  attempted  to 
slap  the  gambler's  face,  and  was  shot  dead  on  the  spot.  An 
excitement  ensued.  The  Bulletin  was  in  full  blast,  and  that 
sort  of  business  had  been  made  to  seem  odious,  and  Cora  would 
have  been  peremptorily  disposed  of  but  for  the  fortunate  diver- 
sion of  the  public  mind  in  another  direction,  which  was,  that 
at  this  very  juncture  the  "Allies"  in  San  Francisco  were  cele- 
brating the  foil  of  Sebastopol,  and  made  a  most  brilliant 
display  and  procession,  which,  for  the  sight-seeing  mercurial 
public,  was  an  equivalent  for  a  first-class  hanging,  and  poor 
Cora  was  respited  until  a  companion  de  voyage  was  found,  and 
he  was  sent  off  in  high  official  company,  after  having  slain  a 
high  federal  functionary.  Cora  was  married  on  the  gallows — 
a  little  piece  of  social  comedy  permitted  by  his  executioners' — a 
foolish  thingj  neither  tragic,  dramatic,  melo-dramatic,  or 
farcical.  All  there  was  in  it  was  that  a  harlot  with  whom  he 
had  been  living  desired  to  inherit  a  large  property  owned  by 
Cora,  in  which  she  succeeded* 

It  was  strange,  but  nevertheless   true,  that  during  the  Cri- 
mean war  Young  America  gave  the  full  weight  of  his  influence 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.  405 

and  sympathy  to  Russia,  and  although  at  the  time  but  few 
Russians  were  in  San  Francisco,  when  the  grand  procession  of 
the  "Allies "  marched  through  Montgomery  street,  on  their 
way  to  South  Park,  cheer  upon  cheer  went  up  from  the  side- 
walks for  Russia,  and  at  early  gas-lighting  an  immense  meeting 
was  held  in  front  of  Montgomery  Block,  which  was  addressed 
by  Elkin  Heydenfeldt  and  others.  Resolutions  were  passed 
sympathizing  with  Russia  ;  bands  of  music  were  procured,  and 
an  immense  procession  formed  and  marched  to  Russian  Hill,  on 
Folsom  street,  to  serenade  the  Czar's  Consul,  and  to  present 
him  with  a  copy  of  the  resolutions.  Bill  Ross,  formerly  of  Los 
Angeles,  was  chairman  of  the  meeting,  and  Albert  H.  Clark 
and  the  author  were  of  the  Committee  to  wait  on  the  Consul, 
who  lived  within  hearing  of  the  music  of  the  "Allies"  at  South 
Park  The  joy  and  gratitude  shown  by  the  Russian  Consul  on 
that  occasion  repaid  us  for  the  little  outburst  of  Young 
American  sympathy,  not  taking  into  account  the  magnificent 
improvised  collation  hurried  up  by  the  grateful  recipient  of  our 
serenade. 

In  the  meantime  the  "Allies"  were  not  having  it  all  their 
own  way  at  the  Park.  They  had  built  a  huge  miniature  Mali- 
koff  of  pastry  and  confectionery,  which  at  a  given  signal  was  to 
be  charged  upon  by  the  different  divisions  of  the  "Allies." 
Now  it  so  happened  that  Charley  Duane  organized  a  big  crowd 
of  hard  hitters,  took  position,  and  when  the  signal  was  given 
flung  to  the  midnight  air  a  Russian  flag,  carried  the  Malikoff 
by  storm,  and  planting  the  banner  of  the  Czar  thereon,  held 
the  fort  until  rolling  stock  could  be  procured  to  carry  away  the 
captured  candies  and  cakes  forming  the  bastions  and  turrets  of 
the  Malikoff. 

Having  mentioned  the  Union  Hotel,  it  may  be  quite  proper 
to  say  that,  in  '53  and  '54,  the  Union  was  California's  crown 
of  glory.  Every  man  visiting  San  Francisco  could  be  found  at 
some  time  during  the  day  at  the  Union.  Everybody  went 


406  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

there ;  the  chivalry  of  the  times  had  rooms  in  the  house. 
What  memories  cluster  around  thy  name,  Oh  !  Union  !  In  the 
zenith  of  their  popularity  those  princes  of  good  fellows,  Myron 
Norton  and  Frank  Ball,  could  always  he  found  at  the  Union. 
Cobarrubias  there  held  his  levees,  and  in  thy  halls  the  grey-eyed 
nmn,  Crabbe,  and  Bulbon,  concocted  their  schemes  of  conquest. 
Broderick,  Bigler,  Ned  Marshall,  Henry  S.  Foote,  all  of  the 
statesmen  of  the  day,  the  Army  and  the  Navy,  patronized  the 
Union.  It  was  a  great  place  for  planning,  for  getting  up  cor- 
rupt schemes  of  legislation  to  rob  the  people  and  feather  the 
nest  of  the  schemers.  Political  appointments  were  discussed 
and  fixed  up  at  the  Union  ;  "  slates  "  were  there  made  out,  and 
•conventions  attended  to.  Senatorial  candidates  had  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  the  Union,  likewise  Collectors  of  Customs,  and  all, 
appointments,  Federal,  State  and  municipal,  were  discussed  and 
disposed  of  at  this  famous  place.  When  the  Legislature  would 
be  in  session  at  Vallejo,  Benicia,  or  elsewhere,  or  when  on 
wheels,  the  members  thereof  could  always,  on  a  Sunday,  be 
found  at  the  Union,  in  conference  with  the  "  lobby."  It  was 
at  the  Union,  in  '54,  that  Charles  P.  Duane  and  Jack  Watson, 
of  Los  Angeles,  so  amused  the  guests  and  frequenters  in  a  most 
lively  skirmish  with  navy  sixes.  The  Union  was  the  fastest 
place  in  the  world.  What  the  rental  of  the  house  was  I  never 
knew,  but  this  I  vouch  for  as  being  true,  that  in  '54  the  little 
cigar  stand  at  the  entrance,  just  large  enough  for  one  man  to 
stand  in,  rented  for/o?tr  thousand  dollars  a  month. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  407 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  Great  Colorado  Desert — A.  Legend— A  Scientific  Man  Makes  a  Great 
Discovery— The  Desert  to  be  Filled  with  Water— The  Widney  Sea- 
Fremont  to  Fill  it  Up — General  Stoneman  Knocks  the  Bottom  Out 
of  It — A  Tradition — The  Ship  of  the  Desert. 


after  the  massacre  of  John  Glanton  and  his  party, 
the  military  post  of  Yurna  was  established.  A  Lieu- 
tenant was  the  first  to  command  at  this  hottest  of  all 
places.  It  was  certainly  a  Botany  Bay  to  the  poor  soldiers, 
who  were  doomed  to  roast  and  swelter  in  this  fiery  furnace. 
It  is  said  that  soon  after  the  establishment  of  the  post  a  soldier 
spread  his  blankets  on  the  sand,  in  the  cooling  shade  of  a 
cottonwood,  and  dropped  off  into  a  deep  slumber  ;  the  sun 
wore  around,  the  soldier  continued  to  sleep  until  it  struck  him. 
and  then  he  slept  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  When  his 
comrades  found  him  he  was  roasted  and  baked  as  though  he 
had  been  grilled  over  a  hot  fire.  They  buried  the  poor  fellow 
with  all  the  honors  of  war,  and  tried  to  console  themselves 
with  the  certainty  of  his  having  found  a  better  place.  But  one 
night,  at  the  hour  whe,n  ghosts  do  walk  abroad,  the  sentry  at 
the  guard  house  challenged,  "  Who  comes  there  ?"  "A  friud, 
Patsy  McNerny,  without  the  countersign,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Corporal  of  the  guard  !"  yelled  the  terrified  sentry,  on  recog- 
nizing in  the  apparition  the  comrade  who  had  been  broiled  on 
the  sand  a  few  days  before.  The  Corporal  appeared,  and  was 
informed  by  the  apparition  that  he  had  been  three  days  in  hell, 
and  the  change  of  climate  was  too  much  for  him,  was  too  cold, 
so  the  devil,  in  sympathy,  had  furlonghed  him  long  enough  to 
come  back  and  jret  his  blanket. 


408  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

The  Lieutenant,  commanding  wisely  made  money  during  his 
brief  authority  at  the  crossing  of  the  Colorado.  At  the  time 
great  numbers  of  Sonorefios  were  returning  home  with  large 
quantities  of  gold  extracted  from  the  California  mines.  The 
Lieutenant  halted  them  as  they  went  by  with  the  information 
that  he  was  stationed  at  the  crossing  for  the  purpose  of  collect- 
ing the  Government  dues  on  the  exportation  of  gold  from  the 
United  States,  and  thus  possessed  himself  of  possibly  half  as 
much  gold  as  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  the  renowned  Jim 
Savage.  When  the  news  of  this  transaction  reached  the  War 
Department  the  head  thereof,  doubtless  envious  of  the  good 
fortune  of  this  banished  son  of  Mars,  instituted  inquiries,  which 
coming  to  the  ears  of  this  modern  Croesus,  he  promptly 
resigned  his  commission,  married  an  angel,  settled  down,  and 
became  one  of  the  cow  kings  of  a  cow  county. 

Although  it  was  worth  a  man's  life  to  attempt  to  cross  the 
Colorado  desert  without  being  well  provided  with  beasts  of 
burden  inured  to  travel,  with  well  filled  water  casks,  and  with 
guides  familiar  with  the  lay  of  the  land,  as  the  drifting  sands 
obliterated  all  traces  of  the  road,  and  the  danger  of  getting  lost 
was  imminent.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  soldiers  deserted 
from  Yuma  and  struck  out  for  the  cooling  zephyrs  of  the  coun- 
try "  inside."  In  1852  a  party  of  deserters  from  Yuma  were 
pursued  and  overtaken  on  the  desert  by  the  commanding  officer, 
whose  name  I  now  forget.  The  resulUwas  a  terrible  fight,  in 
which  the  commander  and  his  guard  were  slaughtered  to  a 
man  and  their  bodies  left  to  parch  and  blister  on  the  heated 
desert  sands  until  a  few  days  thereafter  they  were  found,  taken 
to  Yuma  and  decently  disposed  of.  Many  unfortunate  travel- 
ers in  their  anxiety  to  get  "inside"  have  perished  on  the 
burning  wastes  of  the  great  desert.  Losing  their  way  they 
would  wander  here  and  there,  following  the  apparition  of  a  lake 
and  green  trees  caused  by  that  curious  phenomenon  of  the 
desert  called  mirage. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  409 

In  laying  the  rails  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  the  track- 
layers found  a  large  number  of  skeletons  of  men,  women  and 
children  whose  bones  lay  in  the  exact  position  in  which  they 
had  fallen  and  died — for  be  it  known,  reader,  that  no  wolf  or 
vulture  ever  penetrates  the  fiery  basin  of  the  Colorado.  On 
this  discovery  being  made  known,  the  ;' journey  of  death" 
of  these  unknown  travelers  suggested  to  the  poetic  mind  of 
Kercheval  the  following  terrible  legend; 

LA    JORNADA    DE    MUERTE. 

They  had  journeyed  long  and  far, 
Toward  the  sinking  evening  star, 
From  the  far  Missouri's  shore, 
With  their  cherished  household  store, 
Turning  from  the  Eastern  gloam, 
Dreaming  of  a  brighter  home, 
Where  the  Western  ocean  lavesr 
Fairest  land  with  softest  waves. 

Manhood  strong  in  hopeful  years, 
Woman  with  her  smiles  and  tears, 
Youths  and  maidens  in  the  flush 
Of  life's  morning,  crimson  blush, 
Childhood  in  its  joyous  glee, 
Heedless  of  the  years  to  be, 
Silvery  age  and  beauty  fair, 
Strength  and  weakness — all  were  there ; 
Father,  mother,  husband,  wife, 
All  that  tell  of  hope  and  life. 

Leaving  home's  soft  hallowed  gleam, 
For  a  brighter,  golden  dream, 
Snapping  all  the  ties  that  bind, 
Turning,  leaving  all  behind. 
Loosing  all  love's  links  at  last, 
Garnered  memoiies  of  the  past 
Of  the  consecrated  years, 
Altars  reared  'mid  smiles  and  tears, 
Tender  voices,  pleading  eyes, 
Graves  of  loved  ones — all  the  tits 
Fond  and  tender  round  us  cast, 
That  may  bind  us  to  the  past. 

Where  the  savage  bands  hold  sway, 
Onward,  westward,  journeyed  they, 


410  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Through  (he  land  of  lance  and  bow, 
Of  the  fierce  Arapaho ; 
O'er  the  lonely,  lonely  miles, 
Through  the  treacherous  defiles, 
Shrouded,  dark,  and  murder-dyed, 
Death  and  danger  side  by  side; 
Through  the  dread  Apache  lands, 
Through  the  Gila's  weaiy  sands, 
'Neath  its  sighing  coltonwood, 
Westward,  till  at  last  they  stood, 
Weary-worn  and  travel-sore, 
On  the  Colorado's  shore. 

Hazy  dimness  like  a  pall. 
Quivering,  overshadowed  all ; 
On  the  river's  farther  shore, 
Desolation  spread  before. 
There  the  desert's  fiery  breath, 
Furnace-fanned  and  fraught  with  death, 
Ever  casts  its  withering  spell, 
Dark  as  sin  and  hot  as  hell. 
There  the  shriveled  zephyr  flees 
O'er  the  grave  of  perished  seas, 
'Neath  the  glow  of  fiery  skies, 
Hopeless,  moaning,  faints  and  dies. 

• 

Where  the  blasted  levels  lay, 

Slow  they  took  their  weary  way, 
Through  that  awful  desert-sea, 
Hopeful  of  the  days  to  be. 
But  a  little — they  should  rest 
At  the  portal  of  the  West — 
Of  the  earthly  Paradise 
Overached  by  softest  skies. 

Hour  by  hour  they  strove  and  toiled, 
Thirst-beset  and  furnace-broiled, 
All  a  night  and  all  a  d;iy, 
Toiling  on  their  weary  way ; 
Still  another  cruel  night, 
O'er  that  awful  desert  blight, 
Every  vein  a  stream  of  iiiv, 
Burning  with  a  hot  desire: 
Strength  and  courage  almost  spent, 
Saddened  by  some  dread  portent 
Ot  a  dark  and  direful  end 
That  they  might  not  comprehend  ; 
Slow  their  drooping  beasts  they  urge 
Toward  the  dim  horizon  verge, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A   RANGER.  411 

Till  each  black  and  swollen  tongue 
From  the  fevered  lips  outhung. 

Slowly  sank  the  fervid  sun 
When  that  day  wa<*  almost  done; 
But  a  darker,  death! ier  pall 
Gathered  threatening  over  all. 
Sudden  swept  the  whirlwind's  breath, 
O'er  that  dread  expanse  of  death, 
And  the  burning  sands  arose, 
Drifting  like  the  wintry  snows, 
With  their  smothering,  blinding  wrack, 
Over  fading  trail  and  track, 
Like  the  mad  waves  tempest-tost, 
Till  all  things  were  hid  and  lost. 

Utter  woe  with  ruin  blent, 
When  that  blast  of  hell  was  spent, 
Beasts  lay  dead  and  dying  there, 
Death,  and  horror,  and  despair, 
Like  an  awful  nightmare  pressed 
Dark  and  heavy  on  each  breast. 
Slowly  passed  the  night  away. 
And  another  burning  clay 
Found  them  of  all  hope  bereft, — 
Not  a  drop  of  water  left, 
Not  a  beast  to  give  them  aid, 
Not  a  shrub  to  give  them  shade; 
All  around  a  dazzling  gleam, 
Death  and  horror  reigned  supreme. 

Long  they  wandered  where  the  sands 
Scorched  and  seared  like  burning  brands, — 
Where  the  zephyrs  faint  and  die, 
On  the  plains  of  alkali; 
But  no  crystal  fount  or  stream, 
Gladdened  with  its  silvery  gleam — 
Scarce  a  hope  its  glimmer  lent, 
Strength  and  courage  almost  spent. 

Sudden  cried  a  drooping  child, 
Starting  with  a  gesture  wild, 
As  her  face  despair  forsook, 
"There  is  water,  mother — look! 
See!  a  lake  spreads  far  and  wide, 
And  the  green  trees  fringe  its  side." 
Lo!  before  their  longing  eyes 
Spread  a  dream  of  Paradise, 
Stretching  brightly  far  away, 


412  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Mirror-like  the  waters  lay. 
Never  fell  the  sun's  hot  kiss 
On  a  fairer  oasis 
'Mid  the  burning  wastes  of  sand 
Of  swart  Afric's  lonely  land. 
Glancing  in  the  sun's  bright  beams,. 
Flashing  far  their  dazzling  gleams, 
Like  a  diamond's  radiant  light, 
Lay  the  waters  pure  and  blight, 
And  encircling,  close  and  fond, 
Kose  the  emerald  hills  beyond. 

Swiftly  o'er  each  burning  brain, 
Rushed  the  flood  of  hope  again. 
Soon  their  weary  steps  should  rest 
In  that  Eden  of  the  West, 
And  their  burning  feet  might  lave 
In  the  cooling, 'crystal  wave. 
Long  that  gleam  their  steps  pursued 
O'er  the  awful  solitude, 
Still  evading  with  its  glow 
Every  footstep,  fast  or  slow, 
Ever  mocked  their  longing  eyes 
With  its  glint  of  Paradise; 
Like  the  glitter  of  a  star, 
Seeming  never  near  nor  far. 

Ever  from  their  burning  feet 
Seemed  that  vision  to  retreat, 
From  their  ardent  longing  haste, 
Till  it  vanished  o'er  the  waste, 
Melted  into  dimness  gray, 
Faded,  fled  and  passed  away. 

Still  they  struggled,  staggering,  blind, 
Doubt  before  and  death  behind ; 
Still  pursued  each  mirage  bright, 
Till  it  faded  from  their  sight, 
Baseless  as  a  midnight  dream, 
Or  the  gorgeous  rainbow's  gleam. 


Years  and  years  had  sped  and  gone, 
Gloom  of  eve  and  flush  of  dawn, 
Silent  each  succeeding  each, 
Never  woke  by  human  speech ; 
Never  human  footstep  fell 
Faint  to  break  that  ghastly  spell ; 
In  the  desert's  fiery  breath, 


KEMINISCENCES    OF    A    KANGEK.  413 

Silence,  mystery,  awe  and  death, 
Brooding  ever  still  the  same, 
When  the  mighty  builders  came, 
Laying  down  their  iron  track 
O'er  the  desolation  black, 
With  resistless  Titan  tread, 
Heedless  of  the  wastes  outspread, 
Clasping  firm  the  iron  bands, 
Linking  lands  to  sister  lands, 
When  they  paused  at  what  they  saw, 
With  a  mute  and  trembling  awe. 

Ringed  around  in  circle  white, 
Holding  each  to  other  tight, 
Bleaching  skeletons  lay  there 
With  their  empty  sockets'  glare, 
Vacant  staring,  westward  turned, 
Still  as  when  the  eyeballs  burned, 
With  that  last  despairing  look, 
When  life's  quivering  pulse  forsook. 
Not  a  rav'ning  beast  or  bird, 
Fleshless  limb  or  trunk  had  stirred  ; 
Not  a  hungry  wolf  might  dare 
Thus  to  brave  the  desert's  glare, 
In  that  waste  of  terror  wide — 
Thus  they  lay  as  thus  they  died. 

O'er  those  men  of  iron  fp  11 
Tearful  pity's  tender  spell, 
As  they  gaze*'  with  halting  breath 
On  that  circle  dread  of  death, 
And  they  left  them  to  their  sleep 
In  that  stillness  lone  and  deep, — 
Awed  and  fearful  turned  away, 
Turned  and  left  them  as  they  lay, 
With  a  whispered,  trembling  prayer, 
In  that  awful  silence  there — 
Left  them  with  a  shuddering  thrill, 
Firm  in  death,  united  still. 

In  1S53,  and  for  many  years  thereafter,  Doctor  Wozencraft 
urged  upon  the  Government  the  advisability,  practicability  and 
necessity  of  reclaiming  the  Colorado  desert,  by  the  introduction 
of  water,  through  irrigating  canals,  from  the  Colorado  River. 
A  great  many  theories  have  been  advanced  as  to  the  causes  that 
produced  this  wonderful  basin  of  burning  sand,  and  the  philo- 


414  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

sophical  mind  of  the  author  could  reach  no  further  than  to 
believe  that  whenever  or  however  the  infernal  place  had  been 
formed,  nature  was  certainly  in  a  very  bad  frame  of  mind — an 
ill-humor,  out  of  sorts  ;  or  that  if  ever  contemplated  in  the 
"  plan  of  creation,"  the  Creator  had  overlooked  or  forgotten  to 
give  the  finishing  touch  to  this  part  of  his  work,  or  had  let 
out  the  contract  to  a  sub-contractor,  without  taking  a  sufficient 
surety  bond. 

The  Government  made  several  reconnoisances  of  this  dis- 
jointed part  of  creation  ;  one  by  order  of  Jefferson  Davis,  Secre- 
tary of  War,  in  '53,  and  made  under  Lieutenants  Parke  and 
Williamson.  The  military  command  of  the  reconnoisance  was 
under  General  George  Stoneman,  then  a  Captain.  This  sci- 
entific reconnoisance  failed  to  discover  anything  other  than 
the  Colorado  desert,  which  looked  as  old  as  the  hills  which 
surrounded  it.  The  object  of  this  survey,  however,  was  the 
examination  of  the  most  available  pass  to  San  Diego  for  a 
southern  transcontinental  railroad.  Notwithstanding  thou- 
sands of  people  had  journeyed  through  this  frightful  basin,  and 
the  Government  had  sent  a  scientific  commission  to  examine  it, 
nothing  peculiar  was  observed  concerning  it  until  about  1865. 
A  young  surgeon  of  volunteers  passed  over  this  desert  on  his 
way  to  Arizona.  The  western  rim  of  the  basin  at  Carizo  Creek 
is  composed  of  almost  perpendicular  cliffs  of  soft  red  rock,  and 
high  up  on  the  sides  thereof  you  can  see,  as  plainly  defined  as 
the  cornice  on  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  the  water  level  of  a 
former  sea  or  lake.  The  Doctor,  observing  this,  concluded 
that  this  basin  of  burning  sand  must  have  at  some  former  time 
been  filled  with  water.  This  was  the  discovery  of  a  scientific 
circumstance.  Journeying  through  Arizona,  the  Doctor  discov- 
ered evidences  of  a  former  dense  population  of  civilized  people. 
This  was  another  scientific  circumstance.  He  further  observed 
remains  of  ancient  forests.  Here  was  another  scientific  circum- 
stance. The  acute  scientific  eye  of  the  Doctor  noted  many  other 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  415 

circumstantial  evidences  of  that  devil's  land  having  once  been 
God's  country.  That,  to  have  supported  a  dense  population  of 
civilized  people  Arizona  must  have  been  a  fertile  land;  to  have 
produced  and  grown  forests  it  must  have  had  moisture,  and 
from  the  lack  of  moisture  the  former  forests  died  out,  and  from 
the  same  cause  the  fertile  fields  of  the  former  inhabitants  be- 
came the  sterile  wastes  that  so  blast  the  eyes  of  those  who  now 
traverse  them;  that  the  unfortunate  inhabitants  had  from 
these  causes  died  of  famine,  or  had  in  a  body  left  the  country. 
What  could  have  been  the  cause  of  all  this,  reasoned  the  scien- 
tific mind  of  the  Doctor  ?  He  saw  the  effect,  and  there  must 
have  been  a  cause.  This  the  learned  gentleman  readily  traced 
to  the  drying  up  of  this  inland  sea.  Keeping  his  own  counsel, 
when  the  Doctor  returned  to  the  Colorado  river  he  observed 
that  when  the  river  was  very  high,  it  had  cut  a  slough  through 
its  porous  bank,  and  that  the  water  rushing  through  discharged 
itself  into  the  desert.  Here  was  a '  discovery  deduced  from 
scientific  observation,  that  would  stand  second  only  to  that  of 
Columbus,  in  his,  at  the  time  strange  assertion,  that  one  could 
go  east  by  sailing  west,  or  the  immortal  Doctor  Money's  dis- 
covery of  the  "  Zwirro  Zwirro,"  a  curious  plan  of  which  may 
be  seen  on  the  file  of  records  of  Los  Angeles  county. 

"The  dessicating  climate  of  Arizona,  New  Mexico  and  Chi- 
huahua (thus  reasoned  the  Doctor),  shall  be  moistened;  trees 
shall  be  made  to  grow  on  plains,  where  Gila  monsters  and 
rattlesnakes  do  now  die  of  thirst;  Arizona  shall  be  repeopled, 
and  the  joyous  laugh  of  the  happy  husbandman  shall  resound 
where  desolation  now  reigns  supreme.  A  desert  of  greater  ter- 
ritorial extent  than  that  subjected  to  the  dominion  of  Christ  by 
the  great  Conquistador  shall  be  made  to  blossom  as  the  rose. 
Cortez  tumbled  down  the  heathen  temples  of  Anahuac.  This 
discovery  will  cause  to  be  erected  thousands  of  Christian  spires 
pointing  heavenward,  where  now  the  owl  keeps  silent  because 
of  there  being  nothing  at  which  to  hoot." 


416  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

Was  not  this  a  grand  conception  ?  "A  plan  of  creation"  as 
was  a  plan — the  outcroppings  of  a  sublime  creative  genius  ? 

"All  this  change  shall  be  wrought  by  deepening  that  over- 
flowing artery  of  the  Colorado  River,  and  filling  the  desert 
basin  with  fresh  water." 

"  This  will  produce  moisture.  Moisture  is  all  that  is  neces- 
sary to  restore  these  desert  lands  to  their  former  fertility." 

All  of  these  scientific  reasonings  and  discoveries  the  Doctor 
gave  to  the  world  through  the  medium  of  the  Overland 
Monthly.  So  astounding  was  this  to  the  savants,  that  some 
up-country  college  'conferred  on  this  remarkable  discoverer 
(who  was  to  confer  on  mankind  so  great  a  blessing  at  so  little 
expense)  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  and  all  angel-land 
rejoiced  thereat. 

The  all  powerful  Star  of  the  Angel  City  demanded  that  the 
thing  be  done,  and  without  delay.  That  a  company  be 
organized  to  shoulder  their  shovels  and  go  down,  deepen  that 
natural  ditch  and  turn  the  water  in  and  refill  the  basin.  That 
the  basin  should  no  longer  be  called  the  Colorado  desert.  That 
the  maps  should  be  changed  and  the  Colorado  desert  should  be 
forever  after  ca  led,  named,  designated  and  known  in  honor  of 
the  discoverer  as 

"  THE    WIDNEY    SEA.  " 

The  angel  world  agreed  with  great  unanimity  as  to  the  feasi- 
bility of  the  scheme.  About  this  time  a  party  of  surveyors 
were  sent  from  San  Francisco  to  survey  the  flat  lands  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Colorado,  and  it  was  rumored  that  the  party  had 
gone  down  to  fill  the  desert  with  water.  This  filled  the  angel 
mind  with  indignation.  This  was  our  discovery  and  we  were 
going  to  have  all  the  honor  thereto  belonging.  If  necessary 
force  should  be  used  to  prevent  this  outrage  threatened  by  our 
great  northern  rival.  It  so  happened  that  one  of  our  most 
prominent  angels  had  a  brother  who  was  in  charge  of  that  band 
of  up-country  surveyors,  and  he  wrote  to  him  a  feeling  letter  to 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  417 

find  out  what  they  were  about.  In  due  course  of  time  the 
gentleman  in  charge  of  the  survey  (the  brother  of  Captain 
Alfred  James,  the  Register  of  the  Land  Office  at  Los  Angeles) 
answered  the  inquiry  frankly  and  assured  us  that  he  had  no 
designs  whatever  on  our  "  Widney  Sea/'  which  gave  us  great 
relief,  for  in  all  truth  we  were  always  jealous  and  suspicious  of 
San  Francisco. 

Many  of  our  more  practical  angels  now  began  to  interpose 
objection  to  filling  the  "Widney  Sea"  with  water  and  thereby 
changing  our  heavenly  climate  to  one  of  moisture  and  malaria. 
"Any  change  in  Arizona/'  said  they,  "  would  be  for  the  better; 
but  no  change  could  improve  the  perfection  of  climate  and 
beauty  of  scenery  in  our  angel  land."  Others  argued  that 
with  the  remarkable  fertility  of  our  soil  a  moist  climate 
would  produce  an  unnatural  vegetable  and  animal  growth,  that 
our  boasted  orange  groves  would  be  ruined,  that  the  trees 
would  attain  the  size  of  the  sequoia  gigantea  and  the  fruits 
thereof  would  be  larger  than  the  largest  Monte  pumpkins,  that 
our  harmless  little  snakes  would  become  boa  constrictors,  and 
the  little  horn  frogs  grow  as  large  as  a  Florida  alligator,  and  the 
gophers  and  squirrels  that  now  so  vex  us  would  obtain  the  size 
of  elephants  and  grizzly  bears.  Still  others  maintained  that 
by  making  this  great  inland  sea,  serious  complications  would 
arise;  that  the  Government  had  granted  the  right. of  way 
across  the  Colorado  desert  to  three  or  more  railroad  companies, 
and  in  its  might  would  interfere  and  stop  us  in  our  aims;  that 
it  would  not  permit  us  to  interfere  with  railroad  construction 
to  th'e  Pacific  ocean.  These  questions  became  as  serious,  bitter 
and  uncompromising  as  the  controversy  between  the  "  Big 
Endians  and  Little  Endians"  of  Gulliver's  travels,  and  delayed 
the  consummation  of  the  little  job  until  the  Pathfinder  was 
sent  out  by  the  Government  to  be  the  gubernatorial  head  and 
ruler  of  the  gentle  Arizonians,  and  on  his  way  thither  laid  over 

in  the  Angel  city  to  review  the  scenes  of  his  former  triumphs 
27 


418  REMINISCENCES    OK    A    RANGER. 

and  glory.  Here  he  was  interviewed  by  those  in  favor  of  filling 
the  "  Widney  Sea"  with  fresh  water.  He  accordingly,  after  a 
careful  examination,  determined  that  the  thing  could  and 
should  be  done,  and  about  1879  went  to  Washington  to  solicit 
government  aid  thereto.  The  practical  mind  of  all  this  sug- 
gested to  General  Geo.  Stoneman  an  arithmetical  computa- 
tion as  to  the  amount  of  water  and  the  length  of  time  necessary 
to  fill  our  "  Widney  Sea,"  and  he  gave  to  an  audience  of 
astonished  angels  the  result  of  his  calculation  in  a  public  lec- 
ture in  the  words  and  figures  following,  to-wit: 

"Much  has  been  said  of  late  regarding  a  great  geological 
basin,  lying  between  the  coast  range  of  mountains  in  California 
and  the  Colorado  river  on  the  east.  This  basin  is  represented 
as  being  three  hundred  miles  long,  fifty  miles  wide  and  three 
hundred  feet  deep — about  the  size  of  Lake  Erie.  We  are  told 
that  Governor  Fremont,  of  Arizona,  has  just  returned  from 
Washington,  where  he  has  been  for  the  purpose  of  inducing 
Congress  to  lend  the  aid  of  the  Treasury  to  enable  some  one  to 
fill  this  basin  with  water.  The  Governor  has  been,  during  his 
checkered  life,  engaged  in  some  grand  and  conspicuous  enter- 
prises, but  in  this  case  he  has  evidently  laid  his  plans  before  he 
consulted  his  figures.  Let  us  make  the  calculation  for  him. 
To  fill  such  a  pond  in  one  year,  supposing  the  bottom  to  be 
water-tight  and  evaporation  entirely  checked,  would  require  a 
small  stream  twenty  miles  wide,  twenty  feet  deep,  with  a  cur- 
rent of  three  miles  an  hour.  To  fill  such  a  lake  by  a  stream 
one  thousand  feet  wide,  ten  feet  deep,  and  running  at  the  rate 
of  three  miles  an  hour,  would  take  two  hundred  years.  After 
this  lakjB  was  filled  it  would  require  a  river  two  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  wide,  ten  feet  deep,  and  running  at  the  rate  of  five 
miles  per  hour — about  the  size  of  the  Colorado  river  at  ordinary 
stages — to  compensate  for  evaporation  at  the  rate  of  eighteen 
inches  per  year.  Archimedes,  you  know,  said  that  he  could 
move  the  world,  only  give  him  a  fulcrum.  Fremont  says  he 
can  make  sea,  only  give  him  plenty  of  greenbacks.  The  one  is 
about  as  impracticable  as  the  other  chimerical.  When  he 
makes  his  estimates  he  will  come  to  the  conclusion  that  long 
ere  he  can  fill  his  basin  with  water,  the  great  Engineer  of  the 
universe  will  have  filled  it  with  the  sands  of  the  desert,  driven 
down  by  the  ever-prevailing  winds  of  the  north.  In  the  mean- 
time it  will  probably  be  used  for  the  purposes  intended  by  the 
Almighty — the  occupation  by  the  horned  toad,  rattlesnake  and 
Southern  Pacific  Railroad." 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  419 

We  were  somewhat  chilled  by  this  cool  disposition  of  our 
hopes;  so  much  so  that  we  have  thence  hitherto  kept  our  peace 
on  the  subject,  and  it  is  with  deep  chagrin  that  we  confess  the 
mortifying  fact  that  General  Stoneman  knocked  the  bottom  out 
of  the 

"WIDNEY    SEA/' 

Many,  many  long  years  or  centuries  ago — long  before  the 
Conquistador,  with  his  steel-clad  followers,  met  in  mortal  com- 
bat the  effete  warriors  of  Aztec  land,  conquered  their  capital, 
and  extended  the  dominion  of  Spain  to  the  northern  confines  of 
civilization  in  the  new  world — yes  !  tradition  hath  it,  that 
where  the  Colorado  desert  reigns  in  its  awful  solitude,  a  great 
sea  of  fresh  water  existed,  having  no  connection  with  the  great 
ocean,  with  the  most  beautiful  river  discharging  its  constant 
flow  therein.  This  beautiful  inland  sea  was  studded  with 
islands  of  tropical  beauty ,,  with  evergreen  forests,  filled  with 
birds  of  brilliant  plumage  and  of  sweetest  song.  That  the 
crystal  waters  of  this  sea,  or  lake,  were  alive  with  beautiful 
fishes,  colored  with  sunlight  and  tinted  with  the  hues  of  the 
rainbow,  and  myriads  of  aquatic  fowls  covered  its  placid  bosorn. 
Forests  of  magnificent  trees  descended  from  the  mountain 
crests  and  kissed  the  limpid  waters  at  their  feet,  and  broad  and 
far-stretching  savannas  were  spread  out  like  carpets  of  varie- 
gated colors,  over  which  ranged  countless  herds  of  antelope,  and 
gamboled  the  elk  and  the  deer.  On  the  western  shore  of  this 
great  lake  dwelt  in  all  human  happiness  and  prosperity  the 
powerful  Mojaves,  while  the  eastern  bank  was  dominated  by 
the  warlike  Cocopahs,  who  collected  an  annual  tribute  from  the 
more  refined  and  less  warlike  Mojaves.  Among  other  things, 
and  most  grinding  of  all,  the  gentle  Mojaves  were  bound  to 
furnish  annually  a  large  number  of  their  most  beautiful  virgins 
to  supply  the  harem  of  the  licentious  Cocopah  King.  Many 
times  the  Mojaves  discussed  in  solemn  council  the  question  of 
resisting  this  humiliating  exaction,  but  being  admonished  by 


420  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  power,  warlike  and  ferocious  character  of  the  terrible 
Cocopahs,  the  matter  was  always  postponed  until  a  future  and 
more  favorable  time. 

At  last  an  old  king  of  the  Mojaves,  whose  policy  had  been 
one  of  peace  and  submission,  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  his 
son,  a  man  of  high  mettle,  who  had  trained  himself  and  the 
subjects  of  his  father  in  the  arts  of  war.  A  very  short  time 
after  his  accession  to  the  throne,  the  Cocopah  Commissioners 
appeared  at  the  Mojave  capital  to  receive  the  annual  tribute, 
which  the  young  king  flatly  refused  to  pay,  sending  a  message 
to  the  Cocopah  despot  that  he  could  not  send  warriors  enough 
to  cany  away  even  one  Mojave  maiden ;  that  the  men  of 
Mojave  wanted  the  daughters  of  the  kingdom  for  wives,  and  as 
such  were  able  to  defend  them. 

Terrib.e  was  the  wrath  of  the  Cocopah  King  at  receiving 
this  unheard  of  defiant  message.  He  at  once  ordered  the  great 
war  drum  to  be  beaten;  that  its  reverberations  might  be  heard 
on  the  utmost  confines  of  his  dominion;  that  his  warriors  might 
assemble  at  his  capital  on  the  shores  of  the  great  lake.  The 
Mojave  King  in  the  meantime  was  wide  awake  to  the  respon- 
sibility he  had  assumed  and  resolved  to  at  once  cross  the  water 
and  attack  the  despot  in  his  capital.  No  time  was  lost  in 
preparation;  a  flotilla  was  launched,  and  the  very  flower  of 
the  Mojave  chivalry,  with  their  heroic  King  leading  the  van, 
crossed  over  the  smooth  waters  of  the  lake  and  fell  upon  the 
Cocopah  capital  with  such  terrific  fury  that  their  warriors  fell 
before  them  as  reeds  fall  before  the  fierce  norther.  The  sur- 
vivors fled  to  the  forest  like  startled  antelope,  leaving  the  proud 
city  of  the  Cocopahs  with  all  its  treasures  the  spoil  of  the  con- 
queror. Returning  to  his  capital  the  Mojave  king  was  received 
with  great  rejoicing  by  his  exultant  subjects.  But  his  great 
victory  only  impelled  him  to  greater  exertion;  his  success  h'e 
well  knew  was  not  owing  to  strength  or  superiority  of  prowess, 
but  to  the  superlative  audacity  of  the  attack.  He  knew  full 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.  421 

well  of  his  utter  inability  to  maintain  an  aggressive  war,  so  he 
made  vigorous  preparations  for  defense. 

In  due  course  of  time  the  pent  up  Cocopah  storm  burst  upon 
the  well  prepared  Mojaves,  and  deluged  their  beautiful  land 
with  blood.  After  conflicts  unparalleled  in  fierceness,  the 
invaders  were  driven  across  the  Silver  Lake,  and  the  Mojave  King 
was  again  victorious.  Now  followed  a  war  on  the  lake,  some- 
times with  advantage  to  the  Mojaves  then  to  their  enemies  ; 
they  strove  for  the  possession  of  the  emerald  islands  of  the 

Silver  Lake.     At  last  dominion  over  the  lake  was  won  to  the 

* 

Cocopahs  and  the  Mojaves  beaten — but  not  defeated — aban- 
doned the  conflict  on  the  water  and  retired  to  their  defensive 
works  on  the  main  land.  By  this  time — and  the  war  had  raged 
for  years — the  Cocopah  King  had  enlisted  under  his  banner  the 
fierce  Yumas,  the  rich  Pimas  and  the  powerful  Maricopas,. 
and  assembled  an  army  that  in  numbers  was  beyond  the 
powers  of  computation.  When  the  valiant  Mojave  King 
received  information  of  this  formidable  alliance  he  gave  up  all 
hope  of  successful  defense,  but  resolved  to  bury  himself  and 
people  in  the  ruins  of  his  country  rather  than  submit.  He 
would  have  fain  carried  the  war  into  the  Cocopah  country,  and 
have  battled  this  mighty  host  on  their  own  land,  but  his  fleet 
was  gone,  his  treasury  was  depleted,  the  flower  of  his  warriors 
were  dead,  but  the  oracles  of  the  Mojaves  still  assured  him  of 
victory,  and  when  the  flotilla  of  the  invading  host  appeared 
upon  the  bosom  of  the  beautiful  lake,  the  defiant  Mojave  king 
with  the  remnant  of  his  army  grimly  awaited  their  landing. 
On  they  came  !  Their  great  war  canoes  in  numberless  lines 
extending  to  the  right  and  left  as  tar  as  the  eye  could  reach. 
It  was  a  beautiful  day  and  the  sun  gleamed  and  glittered  on 
the  water  rippled  by  the  numberless  paddles  of  the,  great  fleet 
as  it  swept  in  the  majesty  of  might  over  the  mirror  surface  of 
the  tranquil  lake.  The  advance  line  is  now  midway  from  the 
middle  of  the  lake  to  the  Mojave  shore,  when  there  appeared 


422  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

in  the  far  horizon,  ominous  spiral  columns  of  revolving  clouds. 
They  came  sweeping  over  the  surface  of  the  placid  waters  in 
gyrating  circles,  the  smaller  columns  uniting  with  and  being 
absorbed  by  the  greater,  around  which  they  all  revolved,  and 
by  the  time  they  m-aivd  tim  left  of  the  lines  of  the  great  flotilla, 
they  had  all  united  iu  one  grand  gyrating  circular  column  of 
great  height.  Now  the  astonished  Mojaves  can  hear  the  thun- 
der of  its  march,  can  see  the  disturbed  waters  as  they  form  in 
grand  and  foaming  crests  as  the  monster  sweeps  along  with  a 
terrible  roaring  sound.  Now  it  strikes  the  flotilla,  and  the 
great  war  canoes  in  thousands  disappear  in  the  foam  and  spray 
of  wind  and  water  met  in  terrific  conflict.  The  great  whirl- 
ing, foaming  and  awful  monster  of  destruction  now  settles 
down  over  the  very  center  of  the  lake,  and  the  flotilla  of  the 
invading  host  spins  around  and  around  until  the  last  one  is 
drawn  into  its  devouring  embrace.  But  still  it  gyrates  and 
increases  to  such  immensity  of  size  that  the  sun  is  obscured 
and  darkness  falls  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  A  great  tornado 
strikes  the  terrified  Mojaves  and  fells  the  forest  around  pnd  over 
them  and  kills  and  destroys  them  in  great  numbers,  and  a 
stupor  of  terror  overcomes  the  survivors,  who  lie  thus  they 
know  not  how  long.  The  King  is  the  first  to  arise,  he  beats  his 
war  drum  to  call  his  warriors  around  him;  only  a  few  answer 
to  the  call,  the  many  having  been  crushed  by  the  fallen  forest. 
The  sun  shines  brightly  and  the  king  and  the  survivors  of  his 
army  look  toward  the  beautiful  lake,  and  lo  !  it  has  disappeared 
— it  has  been  dried  up.  The  emerald  islands  are  gone,  and 
nothing  remains  but  the  white  sand  glittering  in  the  bright 
sunlight.  The  King  looks  around;  all  is  desolation,  and  he 
thinks  a  general  ruin  has  fallen  upon  the  world.  He  turns  his 
face  away  from  the  dried  up  lake,  and  followed  by  his  surviving 
warriors  he  wends  his  way  toward  his  capital  which  he  finds 
in  the  valley  of  perpetual  bloom  as  he  left  it,  and  when  the 
astonished  Mojaves  are  informed  of  the  terrible  doom  that  fell 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  428 

upon  their  enemies,  and  notwithstanding  the  drying  up  of  the 
beautiful  lake  and  the  loss  of  so  many  of  their  warriors,  they 
rejoice,  glorify  their  King,  and  are  happy. 

About  the  time  of  the  excitement  about  the  "  Widney  Sea," 
Captain  Joshua  A.  Talbot  (a  veteran  explorer,  whose  fame  as 
such  has  not  been  confined  to  the  Pacific  slope,  but  has  crossed 
the  Andes  of  South  America,  and  descended  into  the  valley  of 
the  mighty  Amazon,  and  gone  over  the  sea  to  Australia),  in 
one  of  his  many  explorations,  journeying  on  the  desert,  came 
upon  the  hulk  of  a  ship  half  buried  in  the  sand.  The  Captain 
and  his  followers  were  speechless  in  the  intensity  of  their 
amazement.  They  looked  at  each  other,  then  looked  at  the 
ship.  They  gazed  at  the  ship,  and  then  looked  inquiringly 
into  each  other's  Ryes  ;  and  then  they  commenced  to  walk 
around  and  clamber  to  her  long-deserted  deck,  and  examine 
this  wonderful  discovery.  The  rigging,  of  course,  was  gone. 
The  masts  were  worn  down  to  short  and  rounded  stumps,  as 
were  the  bulwarks,  almost  even  with  the  deck  (so  said  the 
discoverers),  all  caused  evidently  by  the  raspings  of  time  and 
drifting  sand.  The  depleted  water  vessels  of  the  Captain  and 
his  comrades  admonished  them  that  further  delay  would  be  at 
the  risk  of  their  lives,  and  they  reluctantly  abandoned  their 
prize,  and'pushed  on  to  the  next  watering-place,  and  thence  to 
the  angel  city,  and  reported  the  discovery,  and  filed  their  claim 
to  all  the  treasure  therein  contained.  Uncle  Josh  (so  called) 
and  his  fellow-explorers  at  once  became  heroes,  each  the  centre 
of  a  ciicle  of  anxious  inquirers.  Uncle  Josh  was  of  the  opinion 
that  the  vessel  was  a  Spanish  galleon,  and  was  undoubtedly 
laden  with  doubloons,  and  that  at  the  lowest  possible  calcula- 
tion there  were  millions  in  it. 

This  opinion  w'as  dissented  to  by  some  of  the  more  nautical 
of  the  discoverers,  who  maintained  that  the  build  of  the  ship 
resembled  a  Chinese  junk,  while  an  Italian  insisted  that  it  was  • 
in  his  opinion  an  ancient  Roman  war  galley.     These  various 


424  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

opinions  gave  rise  to  a  learned  newspaper  controversy  as  to  the 
origin  of  the  ship,  and  how  she  came  to  her  present  place  of 
repose.  One  more  practical  reasoned  that  "  the  vessel  was  one 
lost  from  the  first,  expedition  of  the  Conquistador  to  explore 
the  Sea  of  Cortez;  that  a  strait  connecting  the  '  Widney  Sea' 
and  the  Sea  of  Cortez  had  been  closed  by  a  violent  storm,  that 
the  vessel  was  abandoned  by  her  crew;  that  by  evaporation  the 
cut  off  sea  had  dried  up  and  left  the  ship  dry  on  the  sand." 
Another  produced  abundant  authority  to  prove  that  the  ship 
was  one  of  a  Tartar  fleet  driven  to  our  coast;  that  in  the  year 
1280  Genghis  Khan,  the  Great  Mogul,  after  having  subjugated 
China,  fitted  out  an  expedition  of  240,000  men  in  4,000  ships 
under  his  son  Kublai  Khan  for  the  purpose  of  conquering 
Japan.  While  this  expedition  was  on  its  voyage  to  that  coun- 
try a  violent  storm  arose  and  destroyed  a  great  part  of  the  fleet 
and  drove  many  of  the  vessels  to  the  coast  of  California,  and 
Uncle  Josh's  prize  was  surely  one  of  that  fleet.  A  very  wise 
angel  waited  until  all  of  the  others  had  their  say,  and  then  he 
settled  the  question  and  produced  such  unimpeachable  author- 
ity that  all  save  Uncle  Josh  gave  it  up. 

This  sabe  lo  todo  argued  "  that  the  strange  ship  was  without 
the  shadow  of  doubt  one  of  the  ships  that  carried  a  part  oi  one 
of  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel  that  found  their  way  to  and  peopled 
California.  As  authority  he  referred  to  the  Book  of  Mormon, 
the  revelations  of  Joseph  Smith,  Brigham  Young  and  others  of 
the  Latter  Day  Saints  of  holy  inspiration,  and  as  further  evi- 
dence he  pointed  to  the  singular  physiognomical  resemblance 
between  our  Jewish  population  and  the  aboriginal  inhabitants." 

This  elaborate  fulmination  of  the  learned  man  was  deemed 
conclusive,  and  we  all  gave  it  up  except  the  gallant  Talbot, 
who  stood  by  his  former  opinion  and  put  his  faith  and  his 
money  in  a- train  of  jackasses  laden  with  water  casks,  shovels, 
axes,  crowbirs,  cold  chisels  and  canvas  bags  wherein  to  carry 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  425 

away  the  doubloons,  and  followed  by  his  fellow  discoverers  set 
out  for  the  desert  to  loot  his  prize. 

For  once  in  his  life  the  sapient  veteran  was  mistaken,  but 
what  of  that  ?  He  paid  for  his  mistake.  The  ship  of  the 
desert  turned  out  not  to  be  a  Spanish  galleon;  neither  was  she 
a  Roman  war  galley;  not  a  Chinese  Junk  or  one  of  the  lost 
fleet  of  Genghis  Khan;  nor  the  luckless  craft  that  brought  the 
lucky  Hebrews  to  this  Happy  land;  but  the  ship  of  the  desert 
turned  out  to  be  a  craft  formerly  built  by  Messrs.  Perry  and 
Woodworth,  of  Los  Angeles,  to  be  used  in  explorations  on  the 
Colorado  river;  that  her  motive  (mule)  power  gave  out  on  the 
desert  and  she  was  abandoned  to  become  a  theme  of  discussion, 
for  men  of  learning  and  of  Science. 


426  '  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    KANGEU. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A  Reminiscence  of  Sacramento  —  King  Solomon  Gets  His  Gold  in  Califor- 
nia —  An  Ancient  Description  of  the  Country—  The  200-  Pound  Dia- 
mond —  The  El  Dorado  War  —  Murder  —  The  Diamond  Again  —  Smirmish 
With  Indians  —  A  Discovery  —  Gold  Lake  —  San  Francisco  —  T.  Butler, 
King  and  Uncle  Sam's  Coin-  Frank  Ball  Again. 


AUGUST,  1850,  with  three  companions,  I  was  en- 
camped under  that  old,  historical  oak  tree  on  the  levee 
at  Sacramento,  just  below  the  foot  of  J  street  and  almost 
overhanging  the  landing  of  the  steamers  Neio  World,  Senator 
and  McKim. 

My  story  commences  on  a  beautiful  Sabbath  afternoon,  and 
of  course  many  of  our  readers  will  remember  how  a  Sunday 
afternoon  looked  in  the  "Crescent  City"  in  the  summer  of 
1850.  To  those  who  don't  know,  I  am  going  to  inform  them 
as  best  I  can. 

In  the  first  place,  imagine  yourself  at  the  "  Humboldt,"  away 
out  on  J  street  —  a  grand  rag  palace  or  gambling  hell,  literally 
swarming  with  gamblers  and  desperadoes  of  all  classes  and 
nativity,  with  brazen-faced,  gaudily-dressed,  painted  and  pow- 
dered harlots,  who  sat  beside  the  gamblers  at  the  monte-banks, 
faro-tables,  rouge  et  noir,  lansquinette,  roulette,  rondo  and 
other  games;  but  I  hereby  bear  witness  that  these  games  were 
played  at  the  "Homboldfc"  with  a  greater  degree  of  fairness, 
integrity  and  honor  than  could  have  been  found  in  any  other 
country  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  because  if  a  man  was  caught 
cheating  he  was  killed  on  the  spot  —  that  such  contemptible 
thieving  as  three-card  monte,  chuck-a-luck,  and  such  kindred 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  427 

games,  were  no  more  tolerated  at  the  "Humboldt"  at  that 
time  than  they  would  be  in  the  grand  reception-rooms  of  the 
Palace  Hotel  to-day;  and  I  will  say  as  much  for  the  "New 
Orleans,"  "Woodcock"  and  the  "Empire"  (the  latter  was 
kept  by  Butler,  brother  to  Benj.  F.  Butler,  of  Massachusetts) 
at  Sacramento,  the  "El  Dorado"  and  "Bella  Union,"  of  San 
Francisco,  and  all  other  first-class  gambling  houses  at  the  time. 
The  California  gambler  in  those  days  was  a  magnate  in  the 
land,  and  had  as  much  honor  or  more  at  stake  in  the  fair-deal- 
ing of  his  bank  as  have  our  State  and  national  rulers,  our  mod- 
ern bankers,  our  revenue  collectors,  and  all  our  officials  at  the 
present  time  in  the  honest  discharge  of  their  duties.  The  first- 
class  gambler  at  that  time  was  a  man  of  integrity — a  dignitary. 
A  miner  who  came  to  Sacramento  or  San  Francisco  with  a  hun- 
dred or  five  hundred  ounces  was  just  as  safe  to  deposit  it  with 
any  of  the  great  gamblers,  at  those  noted  places  of  pioneer 
times,  as  one  is  to-day  to  intrust  his  money  for  safe-keeping  to 
the  bank  of  California. 

My  intent,  however,  is  not  to  dwell  upon  the  good  qualities 
of  the  great  gamblers  of  "the  days  of  gold,"  but  to  give  the 
reader  an  idea  of  how  things  were  in  Sacramento  thirty-one 
years  ago. 

Of  course  there  was  a  first-rate  band  of  music  at  the  "  Hum- 
boldt," as  at  all  others.  Passing  down  J  street,  in  every  block 
you  found  gambling-houses  in  full  blast,  but  all  of  inferior 
note,  until  you  reached  the  "Empire,"  near  the  levee,  which 
was  in  all  respects  the  peer  of  the  "Humboldt."  The  music 
in  these  places,  the  clinking  of  great  piles  of  $50  gold  slugs, 
the  noise  of  the  bags  of  gold-dust  as  the  reckless  miners  would 
throw  them  upon  the  table  and  "  go  their  pile  "  on  the  "  eagle- 
bird,"  or  bet  a  hundred  ounces  on  the  turn  of  a  card,  and  the 
constant  cry  of  the  roulette-man  of  "  Make  your  game,  gentle- 
men!" "Away  she  spins !"  "Double  O,  red!"  caused  a  great 
din  and  clatter,  and  to  add  to  the  noise  imd  confusion  of  the 


428  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.. 

whole  street,  from  the  "Humboldt"  to  the  "  Woodcock,"  old 
Joe  Grant,  of  sainted  memory,  went  roaring  along  :  "  The  New 
York  Herald,  Louisville  Journal  and  Missouri  Republican! 
only  a  half-a-dollar  apiece  !  Who  -.vants  to  go  to  'Frisco  ? 
'Ere's  a  ticket  on  the  Senator !  Don't  go  on  the  McKim;  if 
you  do  you'll  get  drowned  !  She'll  be  sure  to  sink  'fore  she 
gets  there!  Buy  your  tickets  for  the  Senator!"  The  Joe 
Grant  here  referred  to  was  an  Illinois  man,  and  the  pioneer 
news  vender  and  steamboat  runner  at  Sacramento,  and  after- 
ward became  th«  proprietor  of  the  famous  Knight's  ferry — the 
same  man  supposed  to  have  been  General  U.  S.  Grant,  who  in 
fact  was  not  in  California  until,  I  believe,  '54.  The  street  was 
thronged  with  men  of  all  colors  and  classes,  on  foot  or  on 
horseback,  and  with  pack-mules,  going  to  or  coming  in  from 
the  mines,  with  a  general  pushing,  jamming  and  crowding  of 
everybody.  This  is  about  as  it  was  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  at 
the  time  referred  to.  And  now  about  the  two-hundred-pound 
diamond. 

I  had  passed  up  and  down  the  street,  had  visited  the  "  Hum- 
boldt "  and  "  Woodcock "  and  "  Empire,"  and  had  returned 
to  our  camp  under  the  big  oak,  and  was  sitting  with  my  back 
resting  against  its  huge  trunk,  engaged  in  reading,  when  1  was 
politely  accosted  by  a  venerable-looking  man,  genteelly  clad  in 
miner's  costume,  who  begged  to  know  what  I  was  reading.  On 
being  told  that  the  book  which  I  was  reading  was  a  copy  of  the 
Bible,  he  manifested  much  surprise,  and  gravely  shaking  his 
head,  said : 

"Strange,  indeed,  a  boy  of  your  age  engaged  in  reading  the 
Holy  Book,  when  surrounded  by  go  many  temptations  to  evil." 

He  then  went  on  with  a  strange  lecture  on  the  danger  to  youth 
and  inexperience  in  this  wonderfully  wicked  land,  where  every 
thought,  wish  and  desire  were  for  gold,  gold,  gold.  He  essay- 
ed to  give  some  good  advice  which  I  reverently  listened  to. 
His  manner  was  grave  and  dignified.  His  language,  although 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.        >  429 

partaking  of  a  foreign  accent,  was  more  than  good  :  it  was 
elegant.  The  old  man  remained  conversing  with  me  for  a 
full  hour,  and  on  taking  his  departure  invited  me  to  visit  his 
camp  on  the  edge  of  the  wood,  at  about  the  foot  of  P  street. 

According!}7,  on  the  following  day  I  made  the  visit,  and 
found  him  beautifully  tented  under  the  boughs  of  a  great 
spreading  oak,  with  everything  pertaining  to  his  camp  the 
very  perfection  of  neatness.  Within  three  days  the  old  man 
and  myself  became  very  intimate.  I  had  informed  him 
where  I  was  born  and  reared,  of  my  ancestors,  and  many 
other  frivolous  trifles. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  of  our  acquaintance,  after 
partaking  of  the  good  cheer  of  his  well-stockedlarder,  he  gravely 
informed  me  that  he  had  something  of  importance  to  communi- 
cate. He  said  that  he  had  been  for  some  time  seeking  for 
one  in  whom  he  could  repose  enough  confidence  to  confide 
a  great  secret.  He  was  satisfied  as  to  my  moral  integrity,  and 
felt  safe  in  confiding  to  me  a  secret  that  would  make  me  far 
richer  than  the  whole  Rothschild  family,  and  that  he  knew  of 
the  existence  and  location  of  a  diamond  of  two  hundred  pounds 
weight.  My  credulity  was  somewhat  staggered,  and  the  old 
man  seeing  it,  said  : 

"  My  young  friend,  be  patient  until  I  am  done.  This 
diamond  is  no  new  thing." 

1  thought  it  must  be  very  old,  judging  from  its  size,  but  I 
was  patient  and  said  nothing. 

"  This  diamond  was  once  the  property  of  King  Solomon," 
my  venerable  friend  continued,  "and  I  will  show  you  a  book 
that  proves  it." 

He  thereupon  unrolled  a  bunglesome  package  and  drew  forth 
and  held  up  before  my  astonished  gaze  an  ancient  and  mys- 
terious looking  book,  printed  in  strange  characters.  t 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  be  silent  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  this 
book  and  how  it  relates  to  the  diamond.  I  am  a  Christian, 


430  *        REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

though  descended  from  the  J?ws.     My  most  remote  ancestor, 

who  wrote  this   book,  was  chief  jeweler  to   the  wi$e  and  rich 

/ 
King  Solomon." 

"  Good  Lord  !"  said  I,  "  that  book  w*is  not  written  when 
Solomon  was  king  ?" 

"Did  yon  not  promise  to  keep  silent,"  said  he,  quickly, 
"and  not  interrupt  the  thread  of  my  story  ?  But  to  satisfy 
you,  I  will  say  that  the  book  has  been  renewed  every  two  hun- 
dred years  since  the  original  copy  was  made,  and  this  book  was 
written  one  hundred  and  ninety-eight  years  ago  by  my  great- 
great-grandfather.  Had  I  not  found  the  diamond,  it  would 
have  become  my  duty  to  reproduce  this  book  two  years  hence 
and  transmit  it  as  a  legacy  to  my  descendants  in  the  same 
manner  that  it  has  been  handed  down  to  me  for  so  many 
thousands  of  years.  Now,  are  you  satisfied  ?"  said  he. 

"Perfectly/' said  I. 

"  My  most  remote  ancestor,"  he  continued,  "was  Lord  Chief 
Jeweler  to  the  great  Jewish  king,  and  went  on  one  of  the  great 
expeditions  to  the  Land  of  Ophir  in  search  of  gold.  And  this 
isOphir!"  said  he,  with  a  great  emphasis,  "and  this  book 
gives  a  much  better  and  more  minute  description  of  the  gen- 
eral topography  of  this  country  than  any  and  all  the  modern 
books  now  extant.  My  great  ancestor  was  at  the  head  of  a 
grand  and  separate  division  of  the  great  expedition,  whose 
special  province  it  was  to  search  for  precious  stones.  The 
ships  of  the  Jewish  gold  and  diamond-seekers  entered  the 
Golden  Gate,  and  established  a  city  for  the  base  of  supplies  at 
the  place  now  called  Vallejo,  and  the  most  eligible  site  on  the 
bay  at  present,"  continued  the  old  man.  "  The  description  in 
this  book  of  the  bay  is  perfect.  They  also  had  a  depot  at  the 
place  where  we  now  camp.  The  gold  miners  spread  out  on  the 
mountain  slopes  in  about  the  same  manner  as  they  do  now. 
The  seekers  for  diamonds  did  the  same,  went  further,  but 
found  no  diamonds.  In  this  book  they  describe  every  moun- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    HANGER.        *  431 

tain  gorge  and  river  bed  where  their  search  extended.. 
Finally  they  went  beyond  the  great  snow-barrier  to  the 
deep  lake,  and  they  found  diamonds  in  abundance — the 
largest  of  which  is  the  one  now  in  question.  My  great  and 
remote  ancestor  concluded  to  appropriate  it  to  himself,  as  an 
official  perquisite,  he  therefore  concealed  the  diamond  on  the 
very  summit  of  a  great  solid  mound  of  time-enduring  granite, 
on  the  margin  of  the  great  deep  lake,  and  retraced  his  steps 
to  the  sunny  side  of  the  mountains,  intending  to  return 
with  a  few  chosen  servants  and  secretly  remove  the  great 
treasure.  Arriving  at  the  city  on  the  bay,  my  remote  ancestor 
found  that  the  great  and  wise  king  had  ordered  the  expedition 
to  return  forthwith,  and  that  the  whole  grand  gold  and 
diamond-seeking  enterprise  in  the  land  of  Ophir  was  to  be 
abandoned  for  ever.  My  unfortunate  remote  ancestor,  having 
lost  his  great  diamond  and  the  chance  of  ever  possessing  it,  set 
himself  to  describe  the  place  where  it  is  now  concealed,  and 
this  book  is  the  result  of  his  wise  and  prudent  forethought. 
With  this  book  I  was  enabled  to  pursue  my  way  to  the  lake  and 
find  the  very  granite  cone  whereon  lies  and  has  lain  the  great- 
est treasure  the  world  has  ever  known  for  so  many  centuries. 
It  now  lies  on  the  summit  of  and  in  the  very  centre  of  that 
same  granite  cone,  that  is  now  worn  down  by  the  action  of  the 
elements  almost  to  the  level  of  the  water  in  the  lake.  I  have 
been  there  and  have  seen  and  handled  it..  I  have  examined 
it  and  know  its  immense  value.  I  was  taught  to  read  this 
book,  and  have  taught  my  children  to  read  its  world-forgotten 
characters.  But  none  of  the  descendants  of  the  original  writer 
knew  of  or  found  the  land  of  Ophir,  wherein  slept  the  great 
diamond.  One  year  ago  I  was  lapidary  for  the  Czar  of  Russia 
— for  that  trade  has  been  the  hereditary  calling  of  my  family — 
and  seeing  daily  accounts  of  the  wonderful  discoveries  of  gold 
in  this  remote  and  unknown  land,  and  becoming  more  and 
more  interested  I  sent  to  New  York  for  the  best  description  of 


432  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  country,  and  obtained  a  copy  of  'Fremont's  Explorations.' 
On  reading  it  the  thought  entered  my  mind  that  this  might  be 
Ophir.  I  compared  the  two  books.  I  studied  them  until  con- 
vinced that  the  mysterious  secret  of  the  great  diamond  was  at 
last  laid  bare,  and  I  made  immediate  preparations  to  visit  this 
country.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  copy  a  description 
of  the  country  and  the  location  of  the  great  diamond,  to  be 
left  with  my  family  in  case  I  should  perish  in  the  enterprise. 
So  here  we  are,  and  if  you  will  join  me  we  will  eat  our  Christ- 
mas dinner  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  be  far  richer  than  ail  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe." 

The  old  man  had  become  excited  ;  his  eyes  glowed  with  an 
unnatural  lustre,  and  his  whole  frame  was  in  a  tremor  of  excite- 
ment. His  agitation  was  so  great  as  to  almost  alarm  me. 
Finally  he  quieted  down,  and  I  inquired  of  him  how  in  the 
name  of  common  sense  we  were  to  dispose  of  so  immensely  val- 
uable a  treasure.  He  said  : 

"In  this  way  we  will  take  it  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  there,  in 
my  own  laboratory,  will  cut  it  up.  I  will  first  polish  up  a 
diamond  larger  than  the  Kohinoor,  and  sell  it  to  Queen  Vic- 
toria. Then  we  will  offer  one  to  Louis  Napoleon  a  little  larger; 
and  then  we  will  go  from  monarch  to  monarch,  offering  to  each 
successive  one  a  diamond  still  a  little  larger.  Then  we  will  offer 
diamond  necklaces  in  the  same  way,  and  we  will  get  all  the 
crowned  heads  of  the  world  ambitious  to  outstrip  each  other  in 
their  display  of  diamonds.  We  will  create  the  greatest  excite- 
ment in  the  courts  of  Europe  ever  known,  and  in  five  years  we 
can  have  all  the  money  in  the  world,  and  mortgages  on  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  earth. 

"What  in  the  world  will  we  do  with  such  immense  riches  ?  " 
said  I.  "  What  use  will  it  be  to  us  ?  " 

"Ah!"  he  replied,  "I  have  it  all  planned  out.  We  will 
purchase  Jerusalem  and  all  Palestine — Egypt  included — from 
the  Grand  Turk,  and  pay  for  the  same  in  diamonds;  restore 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  433 

the  Holy  City  of  Jerusalem  to  its  former  splendor;  rebuild 
Solomon's  temple,  or  build  one  of  greater  magnificence;  recall 
and  gather  in  the  Jews,  and  re-establish  the  ancient  kingdom 
of  Judea." 

"  Where  will  we  get  our  king  ?  "  I  modestly  inquired. 

"Get  our  king!"  said  he,  haughtily.  " He  who  restores  a 
lost  kingdom  should  be  king,  should  he  not?" 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon  ! "  said  I.  "  Then  you  intend  to  be  king 
of  the  Jews  yourself  ?  " 

"And  why  not?  Who  would  have  a  better'  right ?"  he 
replied. 

I  was  about  to  say:  "If  you  attempt  to  play  me  that  way, 
old  fellow,  when  we  are  full  partners,  then  you  will  be  mistaken, 
because  I  think  I  would  like  to  go  into  the  king  business 
myself;"  and  I  smoothed  back  my  long  locks  and  imagined 
how  grandly  my  head  would  look  beneath  a  crown. 

Smothering  my  ambitious  aspirations,  however,  I  meekly 
inquired  what  disposition  he  would  make  of  his  California 
partner  when  he  got  to  be  the  greatest  king  on  earth — the  suc- 
cessor of  the  mighty  Solomon. 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "you  shall  have  the  place  nearest  the 
throne.     As    1    have  two   beautiful    daughters  younger   than 
yourself,  who  will  become  the  greatest  princesses  in  the  uni 
verse,  I  will  permit  you  to  take  your  choice  of  the  two,  and 
then  you  will  be  closely  allied  to  the  royal  family. ' 

The  idea  then  suggested  itself  to  me  as  to  who  would  take 
the  other,  and  that  royal  relationship  might  thereby  be  com- 
plicated. I  thought,  of  course,  in  restoring  the  ancient  king- 
dom the  ancient  laws  would  also  be  restored,  and  a  man  be 
permitted  to  take  more  wives  than  one;  that  I  might  make  a 
sure  thing  as  to  my  succession  to  the  throne  by  taking  both  of 
the  king's  b3autiful  daughters.  Being  young  and  modest  at 

the  time,  I  had  not  sufficient  courage  to  broach  the  delicate 

28 


434  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

subject  to  the  great  embryo  king  of  Jerusalem.     So  ended  the 
discussion. 

We  poured  out  a  tin-cup  of  strong  coffee,  and  I  requested 
the  old  man  to  look  at  his  watch.  To  my  great  surprise  it  was 
two  hours  past  midnight,  and  we  had  been  eleven  hours  dis- 
cussing the  question.  I  swallowed  my  cup  of  coffee,  wished 
the  old  man  "  good  night,"  hurried  away  to  my  camp,  turned 
in,  and  was  soon  in  dreamland.  Among  other  foolish  things  I 
dreamed  I  was  at  the  great  City  of  Jerusalem;  that  I  was  the 
Captain  of  the  King's  Host,  and  I  had  mustered  in  martial 
array  all  the  Jews  of  Chatham  street,  to  be  reviewed  by  my  old 
friend  the  king,  who  passed  along  the  line  with  an  immense 
diamond  on  his  head. 

I  woke  up  feverish  and  excited.  My  comrades  had  breakfast 
ready.  A  pint  of  strong  coffee  restored  my  nerves,  and  I  set 
myself  to  work  to  digest  the  old  man's  offer.  The  first  con-' 
elusion  that  I  came  to  was  that  the  old  man  was  crazy;  but 
then  his  intelligent  manner,  dignified  bearing  and  grave 
demeanor  went  to  ignore  any  such  proposition.  Then  I 
thought  of  that  mysterious  book,  and  of  his  saying  he  had 
seen  and  handled  the  diamond.  There  was  certainly  some- 
thing in  it.  I  believed  it  and  would  join  the  old  man  and  go 
for  the  great  diamond.  We  would  purchase  Palestine  and 
Egypt,  and — what  ?  At  this  point  I  burst  out  in  a  laugh, 
when  old  Patterson,  who  was  frying  some  flap-jacks  at  the  fire, 
turned  to  me  and  said:  "I  don't  see  where  the  laugh  comes  in. 
Can't  a  man  flip  a  flap  jack  out  of  the  frying  pan  without 
being  laughed  at  ?  Suppose  you  try  it."  I  thereupon  took 
the  frying-pau  and  went  to  frying  flap-jacks,  all  the  while 
deliberating  on  the  diamond  question. 

I  was  full  of  the  same  spirit  of  adventure  that  a  few  years 
later  sent  me  off  filibustering.  I  was  not  given  to  hard  work, 
and  really  expected  to  stumble  on  a  magnificent  fortune  with- 
out any  particular  effort  on  my  part;  but  buying  Jerusalem 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  435 

and  collecting  all  the  Jews  together  was  too  much  for  me — it 
was  more  than  I  could  stand.  I  tossed  a  flap-jack  over  my 
head,  brought  the  frying  pan  down  on  the  fire  with  a  smother- 
ing crash,  and  said:  "  He's  as  crazy  as  a  loon,  d — d  if  he  ain't!" 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  old  Patterson.  "Does  the 
flap-jacks  fluster  ye,  or  did  you  get  smoke  in  your  eyes  ?  " 

"No,"  said  I;  "I  just  decided  a  question,  that- was  all;" 
and  I  commenced  cleaning  the  frying  pan  with  a  bunch  of  hay 
that  lay  conveniently  near.  I  had  decided  that  the  old  man 
was  certainly,  to  say  the  least,  a  monomaniac  on  the  diamond 
question.  1  firmly  resolved  to  at  once  pack  up  with  my  com- 
rades, who  were  all  ready,  and  set  out  for  the  mines,  and  let 
the  old  man  manage  his  great  plan  of  corralling  all  the  money 
in  the  world  in  the  best  way  he  might.  1  would  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  it.  At  sunset  on  the  same  day  we  pitched 
our  camp  at  Butter's  Fort,  on  our  way  to  Hangtown  (Placer- 
vine),  and  by  the  time  winter  set  in  the  old  man  and  his  two- 
hundred-pound  diamond  had  passed  entirely  from  my  memory. 
*  v  <*  «  a-  » 

In  December  the  El  Dorado  war  broke  out,  and  General 
Winn  called  for  volunteers  to  put  down  the  Indians — princi- 
pally the  Mocosumnes — who  were  depredating  on  the  miners. 
We  raised  a  battalion  around  Coloma,  Hangtown  and  Weaver, 
and  boldly  marched  to  the  front.  The  detachment  that  I 
operated  with  was  sent  out  on  the  immigrant  road  toward 
Carson  Valley.  On  our  first  day's  march  we  met  one  Indian, 
who  killed  our  commander,  Lieutenant-Colonel  McKinney, 
which  brought  the  whole  command  to  a  halt,  and  on  the  morn- 
ing following  small  scouting  parties  were  sent  out  in  various 
directions.  Myself  and  four  others  went  up  the  Carson  Valley 
road.  We  proceeded  some  ten  miles,  and  made  our  camp  to 
rest  and  make  coffee.  We  had  scarcely  halted,  when  not  two 
hundred  yards  from  us  we  heard  a  savage  yell  and  a  gunshot, 
and  up  the  road  we  went  in  the  direction  indicated.  In  a 


436'  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

minute  we  were  upon  half-a-dozen  Indians,  in  the  very  act  of 
scalping  two  fallen  white  men.  We  drove  them  away,  and 
secured  the  two  pack-mules  belonging  to  the  two  fallen  miners, 
one  of  whom  was  found  to  be  stone  dead,  shot  through  and 
through  with  arrows.  The  other  was  full  of  arrows,  but  still 
alive.  The  first  man  who  reached  him  called  for  water.  I 
immediately  responded  with  my  canteen,  and  when  in  the  act 
of  giving  him  the  water  I  discovered,  to  my  horror,  that  it  was 
my  old  friend  of  the  two-hundred-pound  diamond.  I  felt  the 
blood  rush  to  my  face  when  I  saw  that  he  recognized  me. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  said  he.  "  You  thought  me  crazy.  I 
don't,  blame  you.  The  diamond  is  on  the  black  mule." 

Without  speaking  another  word  the  old  man  expired,  with 
an  arrow  in  his  heart. 

In  the  meantime  the  mules  had  been  secured,  and  we  all — 
except  one  who  stood  on  guard — collected  around  the  two  mur- 
dered men.  My  mind  went  like  a  steam  engine,  and  all  about 
the  diamond,  which  had  turned  out  to  be  a  reality. 

One  of  the  mules  was  packed  with*  camp  equipage,  including 
a  pick,  axe  and  shovel,  and  it  was  concluded  that  two  men 
should  go  to  work  and  dig  a  grave — one  to  continue  on  guard, 
while  myself  and  the  other  would  take  the  two  mules  to  our 
camp  down  the  road  and  cook  some  dinner. 

When  Hugh  McKay  and  myself  went  to  unpack  the  black 
mule  we  found  a  heavy  bulk  of  great  weight,  wrapped  in  blan- 
kets and  balanced  in  the  very  center  of  a  Mexican  aparejo 
(pack  saddle.)  As  we  went  to  take  it  down,  it  came  down 
with  a  fearful  weight,  and  Hugh  said: 

"  Gold  !  so  help  me  God  !" 

As  he  said  this  he  made  a  movement  as  if  to  open  the  pack- 
age, but  I  restrained  him  and  said : 

"Hugh,  that  old  man  up  there,  was  a  friend  of  mine. 
This  is  not  gold.  Wait  till  the  boys  are  all  here,  and  then  we 
will  open  the  pack.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it,  however, 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  437 

that  I  know  what  is  in  it,  and  it  is  of  greater  value  than  a 
hundred  mule  loads  of  gold.  Promise  me  to  wait  until  the 
boys  get  here,  and  let  us  go  about  getting  dinner.  I  will 
gratify  you,  however,  with  the  information  that  that  bundle  of 
blankets  contains  a  diamond  of  two  hundred  pounds  weight, 
and  our  scouting  party  of  five  will  go  full  partners  in  it." 

In  an  hour  the  boys  had  performed  the  last  sad  rites  to  the 
two  unfortunate  men,  and  returned  to  camp.  Hugh  and 
myself  had  dinner  ready,  which  the  three  dispatched  with 
great  relish;  Hugh  and  myself  were  too  much  excited  to  eat, 
but  managed  to  swallow  a  cup  of  coffee. 

Immediately  after  dinner  I  proceeded  very  briefly  to  inform 
the  boys  of  all  I  knew  about  the  old  man  and  the  great 
diamond,  and  we  at  once  proceeded  to  gratify  our  curiosity  and 
calm  our  excitement  by  beholding  the  great  treasure  that  had 
tempted  the  cupidity  of  the  Lord  Chief  Jeweler  of  the  mighty 
King  Solomon.  Finally  it  rolled  out  in  all  its  great  beauty. 
It  was  hectagon  in  form,  with  pointed  edges.  I  didn't  faint, 
but  my  knees  smote  each  other,  my  vision  grew  dim  and  my 
mind  wandered.  I  was  recalled  to  consciousness  by  Jim 
McCormick,  who  profanely  remarked: 

"Sold!  Sold!  Sold!  It  is  the  biggest  piece  of  crystalized 
quartz  I  ever  saw  !" 

In  my  indignation  I  was  about  to  strike  him  to  the  earth. 
Three  of  the  five  comprising  our  party,  who  had  been  a  year  in 
the  mines,  confirmed  Jim's  opinion.  In  the  old  man's  bundle 
we  found  many  curious  papers  and  the  mysterious  book,  which 
puzzled  us  all.  We  agreed  to  bury  the  diamond,  however, 
until  we  could  learn  something  of  the  contents  of  the  book — 
for,  after  all.  we  might  be  mistaken.  Another  grave  was  dug 
and  the  diamond  buried.  A  cedar  tree  was  cut  and  smoothed 
off,  and  an  appropriate  head-board  made  and  put  up.  We 
then  took  up  our  line  of  march  for  the  main  camp,  some  ten 
miles  distant. 


438  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

In  three  weeks  the  war  was  over,  and  we  all  returned  to  our 
winter  quarters.  After  much  discussion  on  the  matter  it  was 
determined  to  send  the  mysterious  book  to  the  Smithsonian 
Institute  and  ask  them  to  inform  us,  if  possible  what  it  was. 
We  did  so,  and  in  due  course  of  time  we  received  the  grati- 
fying information  that  it  was  an  old  Hindostanee  surveyor's 
manual. 

This  story  will  not  seem  strange  to  those  who  were  in 
the  mines  in  '49  and  '50,  when  the  country  was  wholly 
unknown,  and  parties  mining  in  a  canon  knew  nothing  of  the 
country  beyond.  Strange  ideas  possessed  the  mind  as  to  the 
theory  of  gold  deposits,  the  general  opinion  being  that  there 
were  great  golden  fountain  heads  in  the  Sierras,  whence  the 
gold  came  down  in  the  mountain  torrents  and  lodged  in  the 
ravines  and  bars.  Many  persons  disdaining  ounce  diggings 
wasted  their  time  searching  for  these  imaginary  fountain  heads 
where  they  expected  to  find  inexhaustible  quantities  of  the 
precious  metal.  Being  unfamiliar  with  mines  and  mining  it 
is  not  to  be  wondered  that  strange  freaks  possessed  the  minds 
of  the  early  gold  hunters. 

A  great  many  finding  those  beautiful  specimens  of  crystal- 
ized  quartz  believed  them  to  be  diamonds,  and  were  hard  to 
persuade  to  the  contrary;  still  others  believed  the  deep  holes 
in  the  river  to  be  filled  with  gold.  A  fretful,  feverish  state  of 
mind  pervaded  the  whole  body  of  gold  seekers  which  would 
cause  them,,  on  the  most  absurd  rumors,  to  abandon  profitable 
diggings  and  go  off  with  a  rush  in  search  of  imaginary  treasures, 
the  wildest  of  all  being  the  Gold  Lake  excitement  in  the  sum- 
mer of  '50. 

About  the  month  of  June  a*  man  came  into  a  camp  near 
Grass  Valley,  and  secretly  informed  a  party  of  miners,  of  his 
having  found  a  lake  high  up  in  the  Sierras  where  gold  was  as 
plentiful  as  cobble-stones  on  the  river  bars  ;  that  he  desired  to 
secure  the  co-operation  of  some  reliable  men  to  get  out  and 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  43  9 

dispose  of  as  much  gold  as  they  needed,  invest  the  proceeds, 
which,  he  said,  must  be  done  with  the  utmost  secrecy,  as  when 
the  secret  got  out  gold  would  be  of  less  value  than  copper  or 
lead,  the  quantities  in  sight  being  absolutely  incalculable.  Of 
course  he  had  little  trouble  in  enlisting  a  party,  as  his  discovery 
was  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  fevered  imaginations  of  the 
average  gold  hunter.  The  party  procured  mules,  and  pack 
saddles,  with  large  canvas  sacks  in  which  to  bring  away  the 
gold.  Notwithstanding  the  greatest  secrecy  attended  their 
preparations  and  departure,  the  secret  leaked  out,  and  an 
'  excitement  followed  that  spread  like  contagion.  Every  mining 
camp  in  the  whole  gold  region  caught  "  the  Gold  Lake  fever," 
and  there  was  a  general  rush  for  "  the  grand  fountain-head, 
found  at  last."  The  excitement  was  not  confined  to  the 
miners.  It  set  San  Francisco,  Sacramento,  and  all  the  other 
trading  towns,  wild.  Mules,  pack-saddles  and  outfits  ran  up  to 
fabulous  prices  ;  a  mule,  pack-horse  or  a  burro  would  sell  for 
a  thousand  dollars,  and  within  a  month's  time  fifty  thousand 
men  were  penetrating  the  caiions  and  scaling  the  mountains  in 
search  of  Gold  Lake. 

The  original  party,  with  the  lucky  discoverer,  went  hither 
and  thither,  failing  to-day,  but  "  sure  to  find  it  to-morrow." 
Their  provisions  gave  out,  but  still,  under  the  guidance  of 
their  insane  leader  they  continued  their  search  until  at  last 
worn  out,  exhausted,  dispirited  and  famished,  the  party  hung 
-their  crazy  guide  and  abandoned  the  search. 

So  insane  were  the  people  on  the  existence  of  this  Gold  Lake 
that  thousands  continued  the  search  until  the  storms  of  winter 
drove  them  back  to  the  foothills  and  valleys.  Many  weru  lost 
by  falling  over  precipices,  and  some  remained  until  snowed  in 
and  were  never  more  heard  of. 

The  poet  Kercheval  who  was  one  of  the  searchers  for  the 
imaginary  golden  fountain  head,  declares  the  truth  to  be 
that  the  insane  man  who  started  the  excitement  and  was  guide 


440  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

to  the  first  party  was  not  hung,  but  the  prevailing  opinion  at 
the  time  was  in  the  affirmative. 

The  humorous  Frank  Ball  shut  up  shop  in  San  Francisco 
and  followed  the  Jack-o'-Lantern,  and  on  his  return  made  a 
very  graphic  song  about  the  wild  rush  for  Gold  Lake.  I  regret 
my  inability  to  reproduce  it.  However,  while  the  memory  of 
that  funny  fellow  is  before  me,  I  will  relate  a  circumstance  and 
a  song  that  gave  Frank  a  fame  that  filled  the  land  from  our 
golden  shores  to  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  and  also  filled  his 
pocket. 

The  great  fire  of  May,  '51,  laid  San  Francisco  in  ashes.  The 
Custom  House  was  burnt,  but  the  treasure  in  the  vaults,  more 
than  a  million  dollars,  was  uninjured.  A  distinguished  South 
Carolina  politician,  the  Hon.  T.  Butler  King,  was  Collector, 
and  having  secured  a  building  on  the  corner  of  Kearney  and 
Washington  streets,  removed  the  treasure  from  the  burnt 
Custom  House  at  the  corner  of  Montgomery  and  California 
streets  thereto.  The  manner  in  which  this  transfer  of  the 
"deposits"  was  made  created  the  greatest  merriment  in  San 
Francisco  (always  merry,  even  when  the  bulk  of  her  population 
had  to  sleep  on  the  bare  ground,  with  the  dome  of  heaven  for  a 
covering).  The  King  summoned  to  his  assistance  as  many 
persons  as  he  could  get,  and  arming  them  with  old  muskets, 
cutlasses,  swords  and  pistols,  placed  the  money  on  a  big  wagon, 
and  seating  himself  on  the  summit  thereof,  with  a  half-dozen 
pistols  in  his  belt,  a  cutlass  lying  by  his  side,  and  an  old  flint- 
lock musket  in  one  hand  and  a  club  in  the  other,  he  bade  his 
treasure  team  to  move  on,  and  his  guard  to  inarch.  Now  the 
truth  of  the  matter  was,  that  in  daylight  one  man  with  a  dray 
would  have  been  just  as  safe  in  carting  that  coin  along  Mont- 
gomery street  as  though  he  had  been  guarded  by  a  regiment  of 
regulars. 

The  proceeding  was  so  ridiculous  that  Frank  took  in  the 
whole  spirit  of  the  thing,  and  maie  a  song  about  it,  which  he 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  441 

sang  in  the  places  of  amusement  with  immense  applause.  He 
next  made  a  caricature,  had  it  lithographed,  and  published  on 
sheets  with  his  song,  and  sold  them  readily  at  one  dollar  a 
copy,  selling  five  hundred  in  one  night.  I  cannot  give  the 
caricature,  but  the  following  is  the  song  : 

"THE  KING'S  CAMPAIGN;  OR,  REMOVAL  OF  THE  DEPOSITS." 

"  Come  listen  a  minute,  a  song  I'll  sing, 
Which  I  rather  calculate  will  bring 
Much  glory,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
On  the  head  Of  our  brave  Collector  King. 

Ri  tu  di  nu,  Ri  tu  di  nu, 

Ri  tu  di  nu  di  na. 

"Our  well-beloved  President 
This  famous  politician  sent, 
Though  I  guess  we  could  our  money  have  spept 
Without  aid  from  the  general  government. 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  &c, 

"  In  process  of  time  this  hero  bold 
Had  collected  lets  of  silver  and  gold, 
Which  he  stuck  away  in  a  spacious  hole, 
Except  what  little  his  officers  stole. 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  &c. 

"  But  there  came  a  terrible  fire  one  night, 
Which  put  his  place  in  an  awful  plight, 
And  'twould  have  been  a  heart-rending  sight, 
If  the  money  had  not  been  all  right. 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  &c. 

"Then  he  put  his  officers  on  the  ground, 
And  told  'em  the  specie  vault  to  surround, 
And  if  any  'Sydney  Cove'  came  round, 
To  pick  up  a  cudgel  and  knock  him  down. 
Ri  tu,  di  nu,  <&c. 

"  But  the  money  had  to  be  moved  away, 
So  he  summoned  his  fighting  men  ene  day, 
A.nd  fixed  'em  all  in  marching  array, 
Like  a  lot  of  mules  hitched  on  to  a  dray. 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  &c. 

"Then  he  mounted  a  brick  and  made  a  speech, 
And  unto  them  this  way  did  preach, — 
•'Oh,  feller-sogers,  I  beseech 
You  to  keep  this  cash  from  the  people's  reach. 
Hi  tu  di  nu,  &c. 


442  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

"'For,'  said  lie,  "tis  well  convinced  I  am, 
That  the  people's  honesty  's  all  a  sham, 
And  that  no  one  here  is  worth  a  d — n, 
But  the  officers  of  Uncle  Sam.' 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  &c. 

"Then  he  drew  his  revolver  and  told  them  to  start. 
But  be  sure  to  keep  their  eyes  on  the  cart, 
And  not  to  be  at  all  faint  of  heart, 
But  to  tread  right  up,  and  try  to  look  smart. 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  &c. 

"Then  each  man  grasped  his  sword  and  gun, 
The  babies  squalled  and  women  run, 
And  all  agreed  that  the  King  was  one 
Of  the  greatest  warriors  under  the  sun. 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  Ri  tu  di  nu, 
Ri  tu  di  nu  di  »a." 

One  night  Frank  was  invited  to  a  hugely  aristocratic  wine 
party,  and  sang  his  song  mid  roars  of  merriment.  After  Frank 
was  through  he  was  duly  presented  to  "  the  King," — the  first 
knowledge  that  he  had  of  the  great  man's  presence.  "  The 
King"  took  Frank  to  one  side  arid  said  :  "  Mr.  Ball,  would  you 
like  to  have  a  sinecure  position  at  the  Custom  House?"  "Why, 
certainly,"  said  Frank.  "  Well,  you  call  at  my  office  to-mor- 
row, and  get  your  commission."  Frank  called,  took  the  hint 
and  ceased  to  sing  "  The  King's  Campaign." 

But  some  of  the  Custom  House  greenies  seeing  that  Frank 
had  won  a  fine  position  by  singing  his  song,  took  it  up  to  sing 
themselves  into  a  higher  place,  when  lo !  the  King  cut  their 
heads  off  as  though  they  had  been  so  many  cabbages.  As  sim- 
ple as  it  may  seem  the  song  ruined  King  politically  for  life. 
He  was  laughed  out  of  the  San  Francisco  Collectorship, 
returned  to  South  Carolina,  where  I  believe  he  tried  to  be 
elected  to  the  United  States  Senate.  His  enemies  sent  to  San 
Francisco,  procured  the  "King's  Campaign,"  scattered  copies 
of  it  broadcast  over  South  Carolina,  and  T.  Butler  King 
was  laughed  out  of  politics.  Frank  Ball  left  Los  Angeles  a 
couple  of  years  ago  and  went  to  Massachusetts  to  comfort  an 
aged  mother  in  her  declining  years. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  443 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  Retrospective  View — A  Thirty  Years'  Change—"  The  Old  Man  of  the 
Mountain  " — Fraudulent  Land  Grants — The  Limantour  Land  Claim — 
Santa  Ana's  Minister  Bocanegra — Attempt  to  Assassinate  Him — Fraud 
Exposed — The  Justice  and  Wisdom  of  the  Government  Vindicated — 
Conclusion. 


i"N  reviewing  the  misfortunes  that  have  befallen  this  sunny 
land,  the  burdens  it  has  carried,  its  giant  efforts  to  shake 
off  the  "Old  Man  of  the  Mountain"  who  had  so  firmly 
seated  himself  astride  the  youthful  pilgrim  at  the  early  stage  of 
its  journey  that  he  thought  he  could  there  remain  forever;  in 
the  face  of  all  the  adverse  circumstances,  to  see  the  progress 
Southern  California  has  made,  the  position  she  now  occupies 
strikes  one  with  wonder  and  amazement.  Take  a  bird's-eye 
view  of  the  country  from  San  Andres  (where  Joaquin  Murietta 
in  '53  made  his  first  bloody  sally)  to  San  Diego,  and  what  a 
change !  ^ 

On  seeming  desert  plains  we  find  the  most  prolific  fields  of 
grain,  orchards  of  the  most  luscious  fruits,  vineyards  laden 
with  commercial  wealth ;  and  where  coyotes  fought  over  the 
carcass  of  some  unfortunate  elk,  antelope  or  deer,  the  merry 
laugh  of  happy  children  is  heard  in  boisterous  merriment  at 
their  relief  from  the  monotony  of  the  school-room.  In  groves 
of  umbrageous  beauty,  where  pursuing  Vigilantes  strung  up 
captured  bandits,  now  pointing  Heavenward  we  see  the  spires  of 
Churches ;  and  instead  of  the  hoarse  curses  of  angry  men,  we 
hear  the  sweet  songs  of  praise  to  "Him  from  whom  all  bless- 
ings flow."  In  the  canons  and  most  inaccessible  fastnesses  of 


444  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  Sierras,  where  the  robbers  of  early  times  found  secure 
retreat,  with  no  enemy  near  to  make  thorn  afraid,  unless,  per- 
chance, the  grizzly  bear,  we  now  find  the  happy  "  bee  man," 
with  his  millions  of  co-workers,  collecting  their  tribute  from 
the  sweets  of  the  floral  kingdom.  Over  mountains  where  toiled 
the  galled  and  jaded  pack-mule,  under  the  lash  of  the  cruel 
arriero,  now  thunders  the  iron  horse,  with  emphatic  admo- 
nitions that  the  age  of  barbarism  has  gone  by  forever,  and  that 
man  must  bow  his  haughty  neck  to  the  mandates  of  civiliza- 
tion, or  must  go  hence  and  further  on. 

San  Diego  of  yore,  with  nothing  but  bailes,  fandangos,  bull- 
fights, monte,  and  John  Phoenix  gentlemen,  to  amuse  her — 
slept  in  the  sleepy  hollow  of  forgetful  ness,  and  pined  for  noth- 
ing but  RAILROAD — has  found  the  full  fruition  of  her  dreams, 
and  has  become  a  city  in  reality,  and  not  one  on  paper  and  of 
expectations. 

Where  thirty  years  ago  the  vaquero  corraled  his  lowing  herds 
now  reigns  in  regal  splendor  San  Bernardino,  the  Southern 
Sierra  Queen.  Bakersfield,  the  beautiful,  now  rears  her  spires 
from  the  plain  where  three  decades  past  roamed  in  undisputed 
ownership  the  subjects  of  the  Tulare  King.  San  Luis  Obispo 
that  in  '53  was  powerless  to  pursue  a  halt-dozen  bandits  who 
had  with  impunity  murdered  her  defenseless  people,  is  now 
rich,  powerful  and  progressive.  Santa  Barbara,  what  shall  I 
say  of  this  old  place  of  Spanish  aristocracy,  that  in  '53  allowed 
Jack  Powers  to  ride  rough-shod  over  her  ?  That,  now  she  is 
the  Southern  coast  beauty,  rich,  prosperous  and  happy,  and 
in  her  strength  could  repel  the  assaults  of  an  army  or  an 
armada.  The  very  spot  where  the  rich  Ranchero,  Don  Jose 
Sepulveda,  gave  the  grand  rodea  twenty-eight  years  ago  is  now 
the  centre  of  the  most  progressive  and  wealthy  region  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  surrounded  by  those  prosperous  towns,  Anaheim, 
Santa  Ana,  Orange,  Westminster,  Tustin,  and  the  old  San 
Juan  Capistrano,  Norwalk  and  Downey.  On  the  smooth  plain 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  445 

where  Bill  pursued  and  captured  Lanfranco's  phantom,  farm- 
houses, fields  and  orchards  in  rural  beauty  kiss  the  rising  sun. 
At  the  place  where  the  lordly  Viejo  Lugo  rested  in  his  declin- 
ing years  we  now  find  the  moral  village  of  Compton;  and  near 
by,  where  on  the  first  of  January,  1853,  the  desperado,  Ricardo 
TJrives,  gave  the  author  his  New  Year's  breakfast,  we  find 
a  Methodist  camp-meeting  ground.  Of  Los  ANGELES!  what 
shall  we  say  of  thee,  imperious  beauty  ?  Shall  we  say  that  the 
dream  of  thy  founder,  Navarro,  has  in  thee  been  realized  ? 
No !  not  yet;  but  his  dream  is  rapidly  nearing  a  complete 
realization.  Los  Angeles  does  not  yet  rival  Granada  of  old, 
neither  cloth  her  valley  equal  the  famous  Vega.  The  Moors 
were  four  hundred  years  in  rearing  to  her  sublime  grandeur  their 
cherished  western  capital  and  in  making  their  beautiful  Vega 
the  world's  Eden. 

With  our  railroads,  our  electricity,  our  steam  power  and  our 
other  improvements-,  we  ought  to  accomplish  in  fifty  years  as 
much  as  did  the  Moors  in  their  four  hundred,  and  we  may 
safely  count  that  within  the  lives  of  the  present  generation  the 
dream  of  Navarro  will  have  been  fully  realized.  What  shall  I 
say  of  the  pioneers  of  thirty  jears  ago?  This: — That  few  are 
left.  Many  having  accumulated 'a  sufficiency  of  gold  returned 
to  former  homes,  others  who  had  failed  in  their  expectations, 
went  further  on  to  new  and  more  promising  fields  of  adventure 
and  have  disappeared  ;  still  others  having  failed,  failed  and 
failed,  and  again  failed,  are  broken  in  spirit  and  only  await  the 
summons  to  that  unknown  land  where  gold  is  not  holden  to  be 
the  only  standard  of  excellence  ;  while  still  more — the  many, 
alas,  too  many ! — having  been  too  weak  to  withstand  the  dissi- 
pations and  temptations  of  the  fast  times,  became  the  prey  of' 
the  fell  destroyer,  and  are  now  as  though  they  had  never  been. 
And  yet  of  the  pioneers,  many  have  passed  through  the  fiery 
ordeal  of  early  times,  and,  like  pure  diamonds,  have  come  out 
with  increased  brilliancy,  and  now  stand  as  a  corporals  guard 


446  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

over  the  graves  of  the  grand  army  of  Argonauts  that  has  been 
swept  away.  A  parting  word  to  those  who  are  left.  Let  us  dis- 
card past  differences,  jealousies  and  dislikes,  and  knowing  each 
other  so  well,  close  our  eyes  to  mutual  faults,  forget  past 
differences,  and  standing  together  as  brothers,  obey  the  behest 
of  the  Master  and  "LovE  ONE  ANOTHER." 

The  California  Spaniard  has  been  more  unfortunate,  if  any- 
thing, than  the  average  Argonaut,  having  as  heretofore  re- 
marked, lost  his  land  and  his  general  wealth.  For  this  he  has 
blamed  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  and  feels  that 
the  Government  has  been  false  to  the  treaty  of  Guadaloupe 
Hidalgo,  and  has  virtually  confiscated  his  land.  With  the 
highest  possible  esteem  for  the  California  Spaniard,  for  his 
bravery,  patriotism  and  superlative  goodness  of  heart,  his 
vivacity,  innate  talent  and  Christian  virtue,  I  beg  to  radically 
differ  with  him  and  tell  him  that  he  is  mistaken,  ancl,  that  the 
United  States  Government  is  not  to  blame  for  his  misfortunes. 
The  following  well  written  complaint  I  clipped  years  ago  from 
one  of  our  papers,  by  whom  written  I  never  knew.  As  it 
reflects  the  general  spirit  of  the  people  in  their  land  mis- 
fortunes, I  give  it,  and  will  then  give  my  opinion  thereon: 

"Now  these  were  early  days;  we  were  all  young,  full  of 
vigor  and  enterprise,  ready  to  undertake  anything  regardless  of 
the  dangers  or  fatigue  attending  it.  There  was  an  irresistible 
charm  in  our  society  of  these  days.  There  was  no  great  con- 
centrated wealth;  no  pauperism;  taxation  was  nominal,  and 
the  Church,  under  the  Mission  Fathers,  accustomed  to  dis- 
pense charity  instead  of  receiving  it;  there  were  no  exactions  in 
this  line.  The  land  from  Mount  Shasta  to  the  monument 
established  by  Weller  on  the  southern  boundary,  was  owned  by 
the  native  Californians.  They  were  a  simple  but  dignified 
people,  and  reserved  almost  to  stoicism. 

"  The  young  adventurers  were  of  the  very  best  of  the  American 
and  European  race,  well  educated  and  accustomed  to  good 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  447 

society.  It  did  not  take  long  to  gain  entree,  and  when  they 
did,  the  hospitality  extended  to  them  was  unbounded.  Parties 
and  balls  were  a  constant  occurrence,  attended  by  the  citizens 
of  all  ages,  so  that  great  propriety  and  genteel  demeanor  char- 
acterized these  happy  reunions. 

"  About  this  time  was  established  the  United  States  Land 
Commission,  where  all  the  good  people  that  we  found  here 
were  compelled  to  come  forward  and  show  cause  why  they 
should  not  be  dispossessed  of  their  broad  acres  and  cattle  on  a 
thousand  hills. 

"  Well,  .  then  their  trouble  commenced.      Lawyers    had   to 
be  feed,  cattle  to  be  sold  to  pay  fees.     And  when  the  Com- 
mission decided  the  land   was  theirs  by  grant  and  by  treaty 
stipulations,  well,  then,  they  drew   a   long  breath   and  said, 
1  thank  God;  Ave  are  safe.'     But  by  and  by  there  was  a  notice 
served  upon  them,  that,  their  cases  were  all  appealed  to  the 
District  Court  of  the  United  States.     Then  lawyers  had  to  be 
hunted  up  again,  more  cattle  sold,  and  when  the  cattle  gave 
out  they  had  to  divide  the  land  with,  the  lawyer,  or  mortgage 
the  premises.      Well,  after  years,  the  District  Court  decided 
'that  they  owned  the  land  by  valid  grants  and  treaty  stipula- 
tions.    So  our  poor  Californians  drew  another  long  breath,  and 
re-uttered  another  prayer  to  God  in  thanks  for  their  second 
deliverance.    But  again  they  are  notified  that  the  United  States 
District  Attorney  has  taken  an  appeal  to  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court.     More  lawyers,  more  sales  of  cattle,  more  sub- 
division of  the  land  with  the  lawyers,  and  more  mortgaging. 
Well,  they  have  to  fight  in  Washington,  and  when  they  were 
so  fortunate  as  to  get  a  favorable  decision  from  that  tribunal, 
or  a  dismissal  by  the  Attorney-General,  they  are  informed  that 
a  patent  must  be  procured.     In  order  to  do  this  the  Surveyor- 
General  must  segregate  the  land   from  the  supposed    public 
domain.      There  is   no   appropriations   made  for   surveys   of 
private  land  claims,  so  they  have  to  furnish  the  coin.      The 


448  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

survey  is  made.  The  Commissioner  of  the  General  Land  Office 
rejects,  then  there  is  another  appeal  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior." 

"  More  lawyers,  more  fees,  more  sub-divisions.  The  learned 
Secretary  rejects  the  survey  and  orders  a  new  one.  The  new 
one  goes  hack,  a  patent  issues,  signed  by  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  with  the  great  seal  of  the  nation.  It  is  filed  in 
the  proper  department.  Some  other  fellow  files  objections  to 
the  patent.  The  Commissioner,  of  his  own  volition,  retracts 
it,  and  writes  across  its  face,  'cancelled/  More  sending  back, 
more  laws  passed  governing  surveys  of  private  land  claims  in 
California,  more  publications  and  more  filing  of  surveys  and 
plats,  until  finally  the  original  possessor  does  not  own  one  inch 
of  his  patrimony,  the  squatters  and  the  lawyers  and  the  Cali- 
fornia interest  having  used  him  up. 

"  If  Lucifer  had  designed  the  l^gal  confiscation  of  the  Cali- 
fornians'  estates,  it  could  not  have  been  more  ingeniously  accom- 
plished. Cromwell's  confiscation  in  Ireland  was  bold,  manly, 
cruel  and  harsh.  It  did  not  pretend  anything  but  what  it 
was — the  deprivation  of  the  Irish  of  their  estates  for  religious 
and  political  reasons. 

"  He  had  examples  set  him  in  Spain,  France  and  Austria, 
and  he  followed  them  with  a  vengeance.  Under  the  sneaking 
color  of  law  the  poor  Californians,  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
by  the  great,  the  magnanimous,  the  just  and  the  mild  citizen- 
loving  Republic,  were  robbed  of  estates  worth  more  millions  by 
ten  than  all  Cromwell's  confiscations.  It  is  not  ended  ;  these 
cases  are  yet  unsettled.  Senator  Benton,  in  his  seat  in  the 
United  States  Senate,  twenty-six  years  ago,  foretold  the  hard- 
ship and  outrage  of  this  Bill  of  1851,  to  settle  private  land 
claims  in  California. 

v "  If  the  title  of  the  Act  read,  'An  Act  entitled  an  Act  to 
confiscate  the  private  lands  belonging  to  the  inhabitants  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  449 

California/  nobody  would  be  deceived,  and  the  authors  would 
have  the  merit  of  candor  and  frankness. 

"  The  Star  was  here  shining  upon  the  introduction  of  this 
outrage ;  it  is  still  looking  upon  its  wholesale  destructive 
effects. 

"  We  might  be  permitted  to  paraphrase  the  lines  of  Camp- 
bell, and  say : 

'  Oh!  mighty  Heaven,  ere  justice  found  a  grave, 
Why  slept  thy  sword,  Omnipotent  to  save? '  " 

As  heretofore  written  the  Californian  was  so  full-handed  and 
happy  that  he  gave  no  heed  to  the  sore  foot  and  the  rainy  day, 
and  when  he  needed  money  it  was  more  convenient  to  go  to 
the  money-lender  than  to  deny  himself  imaginary  necessities, 
and  thus  he  gave  "the  old  man  of  the  mountain/'"  the  usurer, 
Shakspeare's  Shylock,  an  easy  seat  astride  his  neck  and  was 
never  able  to  shake  him  off. 

The  California  Spaniard  was  so  over-generous  that  he  would 
thus  raise  money  for  his  friend  in  sums  great  or  small,  accord- 
ing to  his  ability.  He  knew  not  the  value  of  money  or  the 
crushing  power  of  compound  interest ;  ten  per  cent  and  three 
per  cent  per  -month  interest  compounding  monthly  had  no 
terrors  for  him,  because  he  knew  not  of  its  consuming  force. 
Then  came  a  year  or  two  of  drought,  which  found  him  in  debt. 
His  cattle  were  swept  away  and  the  Basque  sheep  herder  came 
in  and  rented  his  land,  but  his  rental  would  not  pay  his  inter- 
est. Taxes,  always  high,  increased  with  his  increasing  inability 
to  pay.  He  could  not  sell  his  land  because  of  his  imperfect 
title  and  his  mortgage,  and  all  that  was  said  about  his  difficult 
and  expensive  litigation  was  in  measure  true.  Money  he  must 
have  and  his  only  recourse  was  "the  old  man -of  the  moun- 
tain/' with  his  tightening  grasp.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that 
the  poor  California  Spaniard,  wholly  ignorant  in  the^ways  of  the 

world  and  the  money-lender,  was  ground  to  powder  as  between 
29 


450  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

the  nether  stones  of  a  mill.  But  still  the  Government  of  the 
United  States  was  not  to  Name,  and  I  will  now  endeavor  to 
show  exactly  wherein  the  blame  should  lie  and  who  should 
bear  it. 

Now  for  a  scrap  of  warlike  history.  In  1846  Don  Pio  Pico, 
a  man  of  great  ability,  was  Governor.  He  was  of  peculiar 
hostility  to  the  United  States  aggression,  and  when  he  found 
that  California  was  sure  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  American, 
and  after  California  had  actually  fallen,  the  Governor  em- 
ployed all  the  clerical  force  of  the  country  to  fill  out  grants  as 
fast  as  he  could  sign  them,  granting  away  in  the  name  of  the 
Mexican  Sovereignty,  to  his  kindred  and  friends  all  the  land 
worth  the  having,  from  Shasta  to  the  monument  erected  by 
Weller  to  mark  the  line  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico.-  Having  thus  granted  all  the  land  in  California  the 
Governor  hied  himself  to  Mexico  to  procure  ante-confirma- 
tions of  his  ante-dated  grants  of  the  gringo  conquest.  Unfor- 
tunately for  the  Governor  and  his  grantees  a  batch  of  this 
handiwork  while  on  its  way  to  Mexico  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  gringos  and  was  sent  as  a  curiosity  to  the  Government  at 
Washington,  which  becoming  thus  apprized  of  this  mammoth 
land  swindle,  after  due  consideration  enacted  the  law  of  1851 
"  for  the  settlement  of  private  land  claims  in  California."  By 
this  measure  the  Government  seemed  to  feel  that  the  con- 
querors have  rights  which  the  vanquished  ought  to  respect, 
and  to  distinguish  the  bona  fide  from  the  fraudulent  California 
land  grant,  subjected  them  all  to  a  rigid  judicial  investigation, 
and  those  that  were  good  were  confirmed  and  patented  to  their 
owner?,  and  those  that  were  fraudulent  were  rejected. 

Now,  let  me  ask  all  true  men  of  the  Spanish- American  race, 
where  the  blame  should  'rest,  if  any  there  were  ?  Surely  not 
on  the  Government,  and  the  able  writer  whose  article  I  have- 
reproduced  argued  from  passion  and  not  fr<  in  the  truths  of 
history. 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A   RANGER.  451 

Here  is  another  batch  of  land-claims  history,  and  the  drama- 
tis per  sonce,  actors  therein:  BanCTOlt  Library 

In  1843,  Santa  Ana  was  President  of  Mexico.  Under  him 
Manuel  Bocanegra  was  Minister  of  Exterior  Relations,  etc., 
equivalent  to  our  Secretary  of  Interior.  At  the  same  time 
General  Manuel  Micheltorena  was  Governor  of  California. 
Manuel  Jimeno  was  Departmental  Secretary,  and  Manuel 
Castafiares  was  Administrator  of  Customs  at  Monterey.  About 
the  same  time  there  was  a  Frenchman  on  the  coast  as  a  trader 
and  smuggler,  a  former  gunsmith  of  the  City  of  Mexico  named 
Jose  Y.  Limantour.  In  1851  this  Limantour  appeared  in  San 
Francisco  and  presented  to  the  United  States  Land  Commis- 
sioner for  confirmation  his  claims  for  one  hundred  and  thirty 
four  leagues  of  the  best  and  most  valuable  lands  in  California. 
Also,  for  the  Farallones  Islands,  the  islands  of  Yerba  Buena, 
Alcatraz,  Point  Tiburon,  and  four  leagues  of  land  taking  in 
the  City  of  San  Francisco,  with  all  its  houses,  churches,  prisons, 
markets,  public  buildings,  streets  and  wharves.  The  Land 
Commission  rejected  Limantour's  claim  for  the  one  hundred 
and  thirty-four  leagues,  but  confirmed  all  the  others,  and  from 
their  decree  of  confirmation  the  Government  appealed  to  the 
United  States  District  Court  of  California,  Hon.  Ogden  Hoff- 
man, Judge;  Pierre  Delia  Torre,  United  States  Attorney,  and 
Edwin  M.  Stanton  appearing  for  the  Government. 

In  this'  great  trial,  which  took  place  in  San  Francisco  in 
1857,  was  exposed  the  most  ingenious,  well-digested  and 
rascally  conspiracy  for  gobbling  up  not  only  what  was  left  of 
the  public  domain  of  California,  but  every  important  island  and 
point  of  land  in  and  around  the  harbor  of  San  Francisco, 
necessary  to  the  Government  as  military  defences,  and 
the  city  of  San  Francisco  itself,  as  before  stated.  This 
trial  occupied  the  Court  for  months,  and  it  was  therein 
proved,  beyond  a  reasonable  doubt,  that  Limantour  came 
from  the  City  of  Mexico  in  '51,  laden  down  with  land 


452  REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER. 

grants,  all  nicely  fixed  up,  and  made  to  appear  to  gringo  vision 
in  all  respects  as  the  bona  fide  grants  made  to  the  honest  and 
bona  fide  settlers  theretofore  on  the  public  domain  of  Mexican 
California.  Unfortunately  for  the  conspirators  and  their 
claims,  Edwin  M.  Stanton  was  not  a  gringo,  neither  was 
Ogden  Hoffman,  and  the  fraud  was  so  laid  bare  that  the  gang 
of  conspirators  were  fain  to  flee  the  country  to  escape  the 
punishment  due  [their  crimes.  The  claims  were  rejected  and 
no  appeal  was  ever  taken  to  the  Supreme  Court,  of  the  United 
States. 

These  signed,  sealed  and  delivered  laud  grants,  brought  from 
Mexico  by  Limantour,  were  left  blank  to  be  filled  in  wherever 
a  good  scope  of  country  could  be  found  to  scoop,  the  biggest 
one  in  extent  being  eighty-five  leagues  of  redwood  timber  in 
Mendocino  county,  and  one  of  the  lesser  was  six  square  leagues 
at  Cahuenga,  in  Los  Angeles  county. 

To  prove  these  claims  a  great  many  dignitaries  came  from 
the  City  of  Mexico,  including  Santa  Ana's  ex-Secretary,  Boca- 
negra,  who  swore  to  the  absolute  genuineness  of  Limantour's 
claims,  and  Manuel  Jimeno  and  Castafiares  to  prove  the  genuine- 
ness of  Michel  torena's  signature.  Many  of  the  dignitaries  of 
California,  including  Governor  Pio  Pico,  were  witnesses  to 
prove  the  regularity  of  the  proceedings  in  respect  to  Liman- 
tour's grants;  all  to  no  purpose.  The  fraud  was  made  so  ap- 
parent that  there  could  not  exist  a  reasonable  doubt  in  the 
minds  of  any  reasonable  person,  and  doubtless  were  convincing 
to  the  conspirators  themselves.  It  was  perfectly  astonishing  to 
see  the  minuteness  of  proof  produced.  For  instance,  to  -im- 
peach Castanares,  who  testified  that  in  February,  1843, 
he  had  met  Limantour  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  who  handed 
him  some  documents  from  California;  the  whereabouts  of 
Limantour  was  proved  during  the  month  of  January  preceding 
the  March  following,  and  until  July,  where  he  was  on  each 
and  every  day;  the  day  he  was  at  Guadalajara,  when  he  arrived 


REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER.  453 

at  and  departed  from  Colima,  the  time  he  remained  at  Tepic, 
when  he  was  at  Mazatlan,  when  on  the  ocean,  and  when  at 
Monterey;  all  of  which  proved  conclusively  that  Limantour 
could  not  have  been  at  the  City  of  Mexico  at  the  time  Cas- 
tanares  swore  he  met  him  and  received  the  California  dis- 
patches from  Michel torena.  When  this  trial  was  going  on  the 
author  occupied  a  room  on  the  first  floor  of  the  popular  and 
venerated  Union  Hotel,  on  the  corner  of  Kearny  and  Merchant 
streets,  San  Francisco.  The  Limantour  crowd  was  there,  in- 
cluding Santa  Ana's  ex-Secretary,  Manuel  Bocanegra.  One 
morning  at  about  4  o'clock  a  tremendous  hullabaloo  was  raised. 
Cries  of  Police !  Armas  !  Assassins !  Fuego  !  Sin  Verguenza  ! 
and  the  devil  seemed  to  be  turned  loose  among  the  Mexican 
lodgers  at  the  Union.  Police  headquarters  adjoined  the 
Union  and  by  the  time  I  was  half  dressed  and  in  the  hall,  the 
place  was  full  of  police,  and  we  were  soon  able  to  understand 
that  a  vile,  cold-blooded  and  cowardly  attempt  had  been  made 
to  assassinate  "His  Excellency,  Don  Manuel  Bocanegra;''' 
that  he  had  retired  without  fastening  his  door;  that  the 
assassin  had  entered  and  had  driven  his  blade  through  blan- 
kets, sheets  and  mattress  and  had  hastily  fled,  supposing  of 
course  he  had  finished  up  the  Mexican  ex-Secretary,  who  had  in 
person  witnessed  the  grants  of  Limantour  and  attached  the  nopal 
seal  thereto,  and  had  come  all  the  way  from  the  City  of  Mexico 
to  give  his  testimony  thereon  and  thereof  and  thereto  concern- 
ing, and  so  forth,  and  so  on.  And  now  the  minions  of  the 
Government  had  attempted  to  get  him  out  of  the  way  in  order 
that  poor  Limantour  might  be  defrauded  out  of  his  ownership 
to  San  Francisco  and  all  else  thereabout  worth  the  having,  or 
the  looking  after.  This  attempt  upon  the  life  of  this  respec- 
table witness  produced  a  most  profound  sensation,  but  only 
among  Liman tour's  adherents  and  only  for  a  day  or  two,  as  the 
matter  being  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  detectives  in  less  than 
a  day  they  found  out  where  the  assassin's  blade  had  been  pur- 


454  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

chased,  and  that  the  vendee  thereof  was  none  other  than  the 
body  servant  of  the  illustrious  Bocanegra  himself,  who  being  in 
interest  with  Limantour  had  made  this  silly  diversion,  antic- 
ipating great  gain  and  sympathy  thereby  in  making  it  seem  that 
the  Government  had  gone  into  the  business  of  procuring  the 
assassination  of  witnesses  against  it.  It  was  the  silliest  thing 
ever  attempted  in  America  and  deceived  no  one,  not  even  for  a 
minute.  How  these  fellows  got  away  from  San  Francisco 
without  arrest  and  prosecution,  I  could  never  understand;  yet 
they  did. 

The  article  quoted  in  this  chapter,  as  I  said  before,  reflected 
the  general  spirit  of  the  country,  and  was  not  in  harmony  with 
the  truth.  The  argument  of  the  grant  holder  was  that  under 
treaty  stipulations  the  Government  should  have  confirmed  at 
one  fell  swoop  all  the  land  claims  in  California,  from  the 
dome  of  Shasta  to  the  border  of  Mexico.  Let  this  legal  Ranger 
suggest  that,  had  the  Government  done  this,  there  would  not 
have  been  land  enough  in  all  California,  Oregon  and  Ne- 
vada to  have  filled  those  grants.  For  instance,  I  know  of  a 
citizen  of  Los  Angeles  who  was  never  known  to  have  an  honest 
dollar,  or  an  acre,  who  attempted  to  set  up  a  claim  to  three 
hundred  leagues  in  and  around,  and  about  and  beyond  the 
Soledad  Pass.  I  think  there  were  about  twelve  hundred 
ranchos  in  California  ranging  in  size  from  one  to  eleven  leagues. 
Most  of  the  claimants  were  honest  in  the  presentation  of  their 
claims;  yet  many  of  them,  when  examined  and  surveyed,  were 
found  to  be  greatly  in  excess  of  their  legitimate  and  honest  rights; 
and  to  sum  up  this  business,  had  not  the  Government  of  the 
United  States  subjected  all  these  California  land  claims  to  the 
most  rigid  legal  scrutiny,  then  the  Government  of  the  United 
States  would  have  been  highly  remiss  in  its  duty  to  its  own  cit- 
izens who  purchased  California  with  their  most  precious  blood 
and  treasure;  and  the  California  Spaniard,  we  are  permitted  to 
hope,  will  not  let  the  fires  of  resentment  be  fed  on  such  non- 


REMINISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  455 

sensical  drivel  as  that  quoted,  but  will  agree  with  the  author, 
that  by  the  Government  he  has  been  treated  exactly  as  it  has 
treated  any  other  citizen,  and  if  anyone  is  to  blame  for  the  dif- 
ficulties he  encountered  in  procuring  confirmation  to  his  land, 
then  let  it  rest  upon  the  shoulders  of  those  high  Mexican 
dignitaries  who,  after  California  became  the  property  of  the 
United  States  by  conquest  and  purchase,  attempted  in  Mexico 
to  cheat  the  Government  out  of  its  honestly  acquired  rights. 

There  is  not  a  squatter  in  all  California  that  ever  got  one 
acre  of  an  honest  Mexican  grant,  unless  he  purchased  and  paid 
for  it;  while  the  truth  is  that  squatters,  or  more  properly 
speaking,  American  settlers  on  the  public  domain,  were  de- 
frauded, by  millions  of  acres  of  the  public  domain  having  been 
taken  in  by  the  fraudulent  surveys  of  otherwise  honest  Mexican 
land  claims;  and  this  being  true  we  will  consign  the  subject  to 
the  grave  of  forgetfulness;  with  still  a  parting  word  to  the 
young  men  of  Spanish  blood,  and  that  is:  Pine  not  over 
grandeur  gone,  of  misfortunes  past.  The  country  ,has  been 
unfortunate;  the  American  pioneers  also  have  been.  We  have 
all  started  on  a  new  race  of  progress,  and  whenever  you  have 
entered  the  lists  with  the  gringo,  you  have  proved  yourself  at 
least  his  equal.  In  the  law,  in  politics,  in  science,  in  agricul- 
ture, and  in  all  the  arts  progressive  you  have  shown  that  the 
blood  of  the  «Cavalier  manifests  itself,  and  shows  whence  you 
came.  Your  Pacheco,  by  well  directed  effort  became  Governor 
of  his  native  land,  and  now  has  a  seat  in  our  National  councils; 
your  Estudillo  and  your  Coronel  became  Treasurers  of  State; 
your  Sepulveda  became  one  of  the  highest  Judges  in  the  land, 
with  aims  still  higher;  your  Del  Valle  is  the  pride  of  the  coun- 
try, honored  by  all.  We  opine  that  these  eminent  men  did  not 
cry  over  grandeur  gone,  but  that  they  buckled  on  the  sword  of 
the  new  dispensation,  and  taking  their  stand  in  the  ranks  of 
American  progression  resolved  to  carve  their  way  onward  and 
upward.  Have  they  succeeded  ?  They  have.  Then,  mucha- 


456  REMINISCENCES   OF    A    RANGER. 

chos,  emulate  their  virtues,  their  determined  efforts,  their  in- 
dustry, and  let  your  own  brave  hearts  be  your  future  fortune. 
Reader,  this  book  of  reminiscences  is  drawing  to  a  close.  It 
has  been  written  in  the  author's  own  way.  I  know  that  many 
of  the  pioneers  will  find  fault  with  it.  One  will  say  to  another: 
"  Why  didn't  he  tell  about  that  great  fight  wherein  this,  that 
or  the  other  was  killed?"  The  other  responds,  "And  he 
didn't  say  a  word  about  this  one,  that  one  and  forty  others 
having  been  hung." 

The  author  repeats  again  that  he  had  no  desire  to  write  of 
things  of  an  unpleasant  or  horrible  character,  and  those  things 
which  he  was  bound  to  relate  in  order  to  bring  out  the  salient 
points  in  our  pioneer  history  he  did  with  a  great  degree  of  re- 
luctance, and  then  avoided  details,  which  if  given,  and  all  should 
have  been  told,  forty  years  of  labor  would  not  have  sufficed 
therefor.  Most  of  the  pioneer  characters  mentioned  herein 
have  disappeared,  most  of  whom  have  crossed  the  line. 

In  an  early  chapter  mention  was  made  of  Lewis  C.  Granger 
and  his  encounter  with  the  fighting  Federal  dignitary  at 
Madame  Barriere's.  To  have  there  dropped  Mr.  Granger 
would  have  been  wrong,  he  having  been  one  of  the  ablest  and 
best  of  our  pioneer  lawyers,  and  one  of  the  most  generous  of 
men,  and  withal  a  most  classical  scholar.  I  do  think  that 
Lewis  0.  Granger  would  work  harder,  go  farther  and  experience 
more  pleasure  in  serving  a  friend  and  in  doing  an  act  of  gen- 
erosity than  any  man  I  ever  knew.  He  left  here  and  went  to 
Butte  county  in  '57,  where  he  now  resides,  surrounded  by  a 
numerous  family,  children  and  grandchildren.  I  take  great 
pleasure  in  paying  this  humble  tribute  to  his  general  worth 
and  great  goodness  of  heart. 

William  C.  Getman,  a  Lieutenant  of  the  Ranger  Company. 
\v,is  from  Fort  Plain,  New  York,  was  a  soldier  in  the  war  with 
Mexico,  and  was  struck  and  most  severely  wounded  with  a 
grape-shot  in  storming  the  Bolen  Gate  at  the  City  of  Mexico. 


KEM1NISCENCES    OF    A    RANGER.  457 

A  most  gallant  and  noble  fellow.  In  '58  he  was  Sherift  of  Los 
Angeles  county,  and  was  killed  by  a  crazy  man.  He  sleeps  in 
Fort  Hill  cemetery. 

Myron  Norton,  so  frequently  mentioned,  was  a  member  of 
the  Constitutional  Convention  of  '49,  was  on  the  Judiciary 
Committee,  and  afterward  Judge  of  the  Superior  Court  of  San 
Francisco,  a  most  able  man,  now  on  the  down  grade  of  life, 
retired  from  business,  contented  and  happy.  He  used  to  ride 
with  the  Rangers. 

Bill,  or  Gillermo  Pacha,  when  not  on  service  at  the  United 
States  Surveyor  General's  Office,  or  in  the  field,  may  be  seen 
on  our  fashionable  streets,  to  all  appearances  as  great  a  ladies' 
man  as  thirty  years  ago. 

John  0.  Wheeler  is  now  Clerk  of  the  Los  Angeles  branch  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  California. 

The  surviving  members  of  the  Ranger  Company  have  been 
heretofore  properly  accounted  for.  Captain  Hope  sleeps  in  an 
unmarked  grave  in  Fort  Hill  cemetery.  He  also  was  a  vet- 
eran of  the  Mexican  war. 

Reader!  We  have  ridden  together  on  a  pretty  long  cam- 
paign. We  have  returned  to  our  barracks.  Our  mustangs 
are  tired;  our  canteens  are  empty;  our  arms,  saddles,  bridles 
and  spurs  are  hung  up  for  the  night.  The  bugle  has  sounded 
the  "  tattoo."  We  are  fatigued  and  sleepy.  Now  we  hear  the 
signal  to  "extinguish  lights;"  and 

QUIET  REIGNS  SUPREME!